Ironic
by Congo Shabba
Summary: What if there was a man, if a man is what you'd call him, so evil he would want to tarnish the purest soul of them all? DMHP
1. First Mistake

**Disclaimer:** All to Mrs. Rowling, darlings. Sorry, perhaps in another lifetime.  
  
**Warning:** Slash eventually, I suppose there's language too. And perhaps OOCness...

**Pairing:** HPDM

**Summary:** Christmas' not something Draco looks forward to and this year is, by far, the worse.

**Notes:** First attempt at HP, here goes nothing. And I didn't quite remember the name of the librarian and of the Death Eaters so I kinda went along.

_Chapter one, 'First Mistake'_  
  
It's ironic how things end up happening when you least expect them. Of course, Fate has indeed a very wicked mind of its own. And once you have your guards down, you're done with it. Game over. One would think you would anticipate the strikes but Fate never does strike when you want her to. Or when you are prepared for her. No, Fate strikes when you finally let you bloody guards down.  
  
For one, I hated the fact that every aspect of my life, from where I stood, sucked and from where others stood, was great. My life isn't great, it never has been. Oh, I won't go as much as to say I was this poor, unfortunate child. I was born with a bleeding silver spoon in my mouth. But then again, not all wealth is made from gold and silver. Not the wealth that counts at least.  
  
From the first day Draco Malfoy was born, a very merry day it was, Lucius Malfoy, his father that is, had his life already planned. All of it. To the first charm he'd learn, to the first hex he'd learn, to his Initiation, to his first mission, to his very first murder, to his first torture, to his first hunt, to his already planned marriage, to the first child he'd make evil...  
  
First words, first steps, first Christmas, first friends, first love. It didn't matter to Lucius Malfoy. All that mattered was that his son followed in the very footsteps he had been stepping in. To some extent, one could say Lucius Malfoy wanted a clone of himself. His wife gave him love when he wanted worshipping, his wife gave him a curious, stubborn child when he wanted a clone, perhaps even a servant ?  
  
No, Lucius Malfoy would never want to soil his own name by calling his son his servant, although, one could claim that is what he was. What I am. But Narcissa Malfoy is as much a part of what made me as he is. Merlin only knows what I've would've done if it hadn't been for her. Probably would've killed him then killed myself. Would've done something stupid.  
  
And, yet, more than often, I found myself seeking his pride, his approval, his support. For all the shit I suffered, I had it fairly never. Still I kept trying and trying, honestly hoping to achieve something that would make him proud. How foolish of me, I know. Though it is a true I was a Malfoy, I was also a child. A child in dire need of any sign of affection from his father. Or pride at the very least.  
  
----  
  
It started the day of Christmas. I hated Christmas. I loved Christmas. That year, I truly despised Christmas. I was staying at Hogwarts. The bloody bastard. He had firmly stated, ordered or else if you ask me, that I was to stay at Hogwarts. Official business he was attending to during the holidays, concerning who knew what. Probably for that Half Blood he called Master. Pure joke that cunt was.  
  
But who cared ? I was staying at Hogwarts for the Holidays. Bloody alone too.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle had gone home. Blaise was somewhere in America. Why'd he want to do that was beyond me...Pansy was husband-hunting with her lovely parents. Millicent was Merlin knew who. Even that Nott mate was gone. And all the other idiots were gone, except for those first and second years. Which I did not, under any circumstances, want to spend all my holidays with. Great.  
  
Granted I did not like those two buffoons but they could amuse one out of one's boredom. And Blaise, he was a good mate, a good shag, he was bloody shaggable though not really my type and Merlin only knows that I could've done with a good shag during those sodding holidays. Pansy always annoyed the hell out of me but it was nice to be the center of attention even if it came from her.  
  
Perhaps I could've even shagged her a couple of times. Gross, I had to live with these thoughts...I truly wondered who would want to be engaged to that. Without being forced that is. I'd been this close to be that poor man that got affianced with her. This close. Thank the heavens for saving me from a horrible future.  
  
Millicent was alright, I guess. It wasn't like I really talked to her. She could be the girl version of Crabbe or Goyle. But aside from that, she could have done the trick...Perhaps, possibly, okay, not at all. And that Nott. I genuinely had no idea who he was. Some seven year Slytherin that seemed to lust after Blaise. Hehe, got to him first.  
  
Well, I got to almost everybody first. The rumours were true. The stories were founded. The 'victims' were real. Don't get to far of yourselves though. I didn't do that rape shit. I didn't believe in that crap, still don't. Yes, I may have been a cold bastard but I wasn't that foolish. All my partners were willing and disposed. Very willing. Another notch on my bedpost. Figuratively speaking. I wasn't that conceited.  
  
I rather used 'victims' in the sense that I don't shag and cuddle, or shag and fall in love. I just wanted to enjoy myself, have a good time. I wasn't interested in that lovey-dovey shit. All victims of Draco Malfoy's cold heart. I didn't intend to fall in love. Frankly, I didn't believe in that thing called love. I hadn't had the best example.  
  
I believed in that parent-child love even in that friend-friend love, friendship some call it, but love as in lover love ? Nope. That was bullshit. Soul mates, life mates, meant for each other, love at first sight, spend all eternity together ? I clearly didn't believe in those pretences. But then again, I had to be proved wrong, right. ? Bloody fate.  
  
Oh well. Bookshelves are very appealing, don't you think ?  
  
----  
  
Christmas. That day was put under a severe routine. A routine I'd grown accustomed to. Not this year, though, mate. Mum would order the house elves around, making sure the diner was ready, Father would be in his study or gone on 'important, top-secret business' and then, there'd be his boring evening with lots of those Ministry folks, including Fudge himself, ugh, where he would present me to the lot of them, most if not all were, I already knew, Death Eaters. Oh, proud Death Eaters, don't forget that.  
  
Speaking of Fudge. That was what I called conceited. He was a greedy bastard. He craved for power and control and authority. He was daman proud of being Minister of Magic. Even though he was only second best to the great, the wonderful, Muggle-lover, one and only, Albus Dumbledore. Fudge wasn't that great. He wasn't even good. He was average and that was being generous.  
  
And that was who we put to the command. A greedy, old fucker who would like nothing more than join forces with Lord Voldemort and gain powers beyond his imagination. One thing was: he was the bloody Minister of Magic and with that came obligations. Like not turning evil that is and not team up with one of the greatest Dark Wizards of all times. I don't think it was that great of a incentive but, oh well.  
  
And there would be all of Father's Death Eaters friends. All looking at me with a thousand promises in their eyes. I knew they just waited for me to wear that bloody mask and enter the inner circle. Crabbe and Goyle Sr., Avery, McNair, Nott and all those losers. All proud Pure Bloods kissing the hem of a Half Blood ! Daft men they were. Good thing we put them away...  
  
But Mum would be there. One wouldn't think that we were that close. I know how it might've looked like. But we were. I think she's the only person I've ever loved that much except.... She virtually had to hide the fact that we were so close to Father. I don't think he's ever said he loved me. Maybe Mum compensated for him. Though, he was proud of me. At one time. Before he entered my life. Again, Fate's sodding doing.  
  
More than once I had to hear him say how much he was disappointed of me : couldn't get Potter's friendship, couldn't have better grades, couldn't make the team, couldn't catch the damn Snitch, couldn't round pass that age- limit, couldn't do this, that, this again and that...Once he was so angry, he even threatened me of disowning me.  
  
Not angry, begging your pardon. He was never angry as one would normally react when angry. Malfoys do not explode in anger. Malfoys keep their cool but throw daggers with their icy glares and freeze soul with their glacial tone. Malfoys do not do such things as let their emotions overcome them. They are masters of themselves. Masters period.  
  
There never once had been some plates or vases broken, there never once had been shouts and yells, there never once had been any slaps, kicks, punches, hexes, curses, there never once had been any 'physical proof' of his utter disappoint in his only son. The only proof was in the heart of this very son.  
  
That time, I didn't even remember what I had done to upset him. It wasn't the most shining moment in Draco Malfoy's life. All I could recall was bribes, parts, glares, smirks, sneers of that day. He clearly said I was dirtying our name, our pride, our reputation, our heritage. He clearly enunciated how it was upsetting to have such an hopeless son for lone heir. To hell with it, I was a bloody disgrace.  
  
I can remember clearly Mum's reaction. She had been horrified when she heard 'disowning'. But she hadn't said a thing. She just clapped her hand to her mouth, her eyes glistening with held tears. And she stayed still, barely breathing. I thought she would pass out on us. And yet, I didn't blame her for not saying a word. I knew she didn't want to go up against Father. And even if she had tried to, he wouldn't have let her.  
  
I had to understand what being a Malfoy meant. Mum had it all down when she went in the public eye. Even when she was with Father, sometimes. Being a Malfoy was great lot of responsibilities. Carry the name with honour, hold your chin up, veil your eyes, curl your lips in a smirk, drawl your words, shoot insults at everyone lower than you, that is everyone period, choose carefully your friends, watch your back, bow down at the Dark Lord...  
  
Because Malfoy meant a lot. Being a Malfoy meant mastering that smirk, that stare, that glare, that impassive gaze. Being a Malfoy meant no public displays of emotions, not any, not ever. Anger was tolerated. Although being a Malfoy meant you could control your feelings, hide them, make people think you have none. Being a Malfoy meant being superior to others, or at least feeling in my case.  
  
Yes, I thought I was. But I sure as hell wasn't. All my life I had been taught that garbage about pure blood and Malfoys. Yes, we were unbeatable, unstoppable, untouchable. Almost gods. Since the very first day I was born, my future was all mapped out. I was to become this great wizard, a dark wizard I might add, and league with Voldemort. I don't know why Father even joined his ranks the first time.  
  
All the pride that being a Malfoy instigated was soon flushed under that cagoule. Faceless, nameless, only a dark mark craved on your arm. And it was blood ironic. I was supposed to be this greater being and yet, I had to follow orders from a bloody muggleborn ! And yet, Father still preached to me the fucking blood purity ! Now, that's what I call ironic. Hilarious, really.  
  
I would've laughed my arse off hard and long if it hadn't meant for me to become one at soon as my studies at Hogwarts would be finished. Speaking of which, they were almost over. Which also meant my Initiation was soon to be. A year or so, now. I didn't know what I wanted to do but I didn't want to be a bloody Death Eater, that's for sure. Yes, I know Father has a job apart from that. I just don't want to be one, period.  
  
I told my mum that once. She had gazed at me with loving, understanding eyes but she had said nothing. I knew she didn't want to meddle in Father's plans even if it was my life, after all. That was one of the very few times I got angry with her. Though deep down, I understood. I wasn't really mad at her particularly. Just mad at the whole world. Sticking world. Sometimes I wish I was a Muggle. It'd be so much simpler. Go figure.  
  
-----  
  
It all started on Christmas day. No, in fact, make that two days before that bloody holiday. I was bored out of my mind. Madam Pince eyed me suspiciously at first. I remember I had flashed her one of my most charming smiles and she had flushed. But she had recovered quickly. Now, she always looked as if I was preparing to launch those fireworks of the Weasel twins in her library. Granted I never put a foot there unless it's of urgent business but hell, I think it's a goddamn public place.  
  
A few hours of pissing her off truly was truly all there was. And I was truly bored. My work seemed to have vanished. It's funny how your work pile seem to disappear quicker when you just want to burry yourself and die of fatigue. Ironic again. Merlin, do we live in an ironic world or what ? Or maybe it was just my world that was ironic. Or Fate that was truly pissed off at me for some unknown reason. Or both. Yes, that's it, join forces and kick me in the guts again. Good job.  
  
It was a day like the others, an utterly dull day. And even when Golden Boy came by. I was so lifeless I couldn't even think a something to spit at him. And to my utter surprise, he didn't even attack me. And he was alone. He just settled at a table, in front of me, dropping loudly all of his parchments and quills and bottles on the table. I remember quite clearly the snort I gave. And the sigh he made. Serves him right for disturbing my utter boredom.  
  
Still slumped down on the chair, I stared at him. He was bent on a long parchment, books opened, scattered everywhere and a frustrated frown on his face. Seemed to be Snape's essay. Poor Potty, Potions never were his best subject. Too bad for him. He let out another groan of frustration and then looked up at me. I lifted a questioning brow at him. He shook his head and looked back on his essay.  
  
I coughed a bit and he gazed back at me again. Now, what I was about to do gave me another reason, if not the best, of hating Christmas. I truly don't know why I did it. It just felt natural, I guess, Merlin only knows why. Damn bastard. I don't think anyone knows of it even now. It was just our little secret. Sometimes, after, it even made me sick. Now ? I don't know. It's just ironic. Again.  
  
I cocked my head to him and then to the exit. I saw his face change from annoyance to disbelief to pure confusion. It actually was quite amusing. But, being a Malfoy and him being the Boy Who Lived, I kept it to myself as I watched him shrug, frown, sigh and step on his Gryffindor pride and gather his things around as I did the same thing.  
  
He strode slowly towards the door, his bag on the shoulder and holding tightly on every last piece of paper and quills he had. Finally, it was as though he decided that the faster he got there, the better he would be and he picked up the pace quickly. Madam Pince watched him distrustfully as he passed by her, trying to keep everything he had in his arms.  
  
I waited a bit, grabbed my bag and stood up. I slowly walked by the librarian who, again, ogled me warily. Oh, hell. I tried again with the charming smile. To which she abruptly stuck her nose in her book, letting an indignant sound out. I smirked at that and blew her a kiss, while she spied on me, trying to be discreet, above her glasses. And then she actually smiled at me. Good doing, Malfoy. You've got yourself another admirer. Fuck.  
  
I exited the library and looked around to find my dear Hero. He was leaning back to a wall, arms crossed against his chest, head bowed, tapping his foot edgily. Clam down, Pots, you're going blow up something. Preferably not me, I've grown quite attached to myself. Have to. Who have I got besides myself ? But that wasn't the point. Ah, Potter. Care to entertain me ?  
  
"What do you want, Malfoy ? "he asked, not looking up before I could speak.  
  
"Oh, nothing much. I was bored and you were nearly crying over your troublesome essay, so I figured I'd help you out, "I said almost too sweetly.  
  
"Yeah right. The day you help me without any tricks up your sleeves will be the day I kiss you of my own free will, "he snarled more and more annoyed.  
  
"I wonder if you're a good kisser then, "I replied, unmoved, as he wrinkled his nose. "I wonder if your lips will feel as soft as they look or if you use much tongue or not. Are you a tongue or lip person ? I wonder how you taste, "I said, winking at him.  
  
"STOP ! I'm gonna have bloody nightmares for the rest of my life, cunt !"he said, covering his ears.  
  
"Prude, "I said as he snorted, "perhaps virgin then..."  
  
"What's in it for you ?" Ooh radical change of subject. Virgin it is.  
  
"What ?"  
  
"I know you, Malfoy, you're not one to help when there's nothing at the other end. What's in it for you ? What will you find to humiliate me again ?"  
  
"Oh, nothing, Hero. Absolutely nothing. I just thought we could keep each other company seeing as we were both left behind, "I said, trying to sound indifferent.  
  
"You're actually saying you'd rather spend time with me than alone ? Am I going fucking insane here ? Am I hearing correctly ?"  
  
"Oh, your hearing is quite correct though you might want to check that thing you call a brain. Come on, Pots, I am utterly bored, you need help and I am willing to help you if, "  
  
"Ha ! I knew there was a catch, "he said triumphantly. "What is it ?"  
  
"...you are willing to entertain me, "I replied, a slow, wicked grin curling my lips.  
  
"You sick bastard ! I should've known, I should've seen through this !"he cried out, disgusted.  
  
"Oh breathe out, Hero, you're not gonna choke on me. I didn't mean it that way. Besides, you're the sick bastard. Who knew Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived had such naughty thoughts ? "I teased him as he flushed a bit. "Oh just shut up and be grateful already."  
  
"Alright, "he conceited, "Where ? Oh, I know where. Good place. Come. Follow me."  
  
I snorted but still, I followed him. He had actually agreed to let me help him. I had actually offered to help him. When classes were to begin, I was going to hex Snape for this bloody essay. Take that, Father. I'm helping Potter out. Just like friends do. Ugh, shouldn't have thought that. Made me want to retch. Me, friends with Potter ? Someone was surely tired. Yes, that probably was it. 


	2. Peace Offering

Chapter two, 'Peace offering'  
  
"This looks quite familiar, "I said out loud while he snorted.  
  
"Oh it should indeed. That is where you and your thugs, along with dear Dolores Umbridge, caught our delightful DA meeting, in our lovely fifth year, or last year if you prefer. Remember now ?"he said, amused.  
  
"Right. DA. Umbridge. Last year."  
  
"Right. Here. Arrived. Now, "he replied.  
  
Don't get smart with me, Hero. I glared at him but he just shrugged and entered the room, with me following again. Don't let this be a habit. Malfoys do not follow. He turned around and looked at me. His eyes lit up and he smirked at me. Damn bastard. He always could get a good read on me. He always was the only one that could get under my skin so easily.  
  
The room was nice. Though I had no idea where they had place to practice charms and spells. It looked a bit like the library just more welcoming and was lacking that obnoxious old lady. I picked up some books and they all talked about Potions, there were parchments and quills and ink bottles. How come I didn't know about that place ? How come he did ?  
  
"Less shabby than I thought, "I said as an afterthought.  
  
Again, he sighed but proceeded anyway. He rearranged his glasses who were slipping off his nose. He slowly took off his school robe and tossed it in a corner. My, I wonder if he took my joke seriously. Oh, well, I'm not one to stop a show in this fashion. managed to keep my amusement to just my trademark smirk. At last, he looked up at me, saw my expression and let out an indignant huff as he finally sat down with a loud sound. I shrugged. He looked tense. He looked different. I couldn't quite read him like I usually could.  
  
Normally, I can read people rather easily. The facial expression, the body language, the tone or just the feelings dancing around me. Some say it's called the aura. I usually reply it's one of the many attributes Malfoys possess. And Pots, that's good entertainment. Usually I read him quite simply. Not that he is blatant about his feelings but, you know, that whole archenemy thing makes it easier...Well, I guess. Or perhaps he is indeed obvious and I have no merits. But I like to think it's the former. Malfoy pride and all.  
  
"Such ruckus in such a quiet domain, "I drawled slowly as I straightened myself up as so to face him directly.  
  
"Why d'you think I'd accept it ?"he challenged.  
  
"Well, I can see you're sitting just in front me, Potter. You brought me here. You're even talking to me, "I replied, smirking. "And you suck at Potions, "I added, after a moment.  
  
"Point taken, Malfoy, I guess, "he said.  
  
"Glad you've finally come to your senses and admitted I was right for once," I said, winningly.  
  
"Cunt, "he replied, smirking.  
  
"Ungrateful bastard, "I retorted, mirroring his smirk. "What, Malfoy ? Suppose you want me to say 'thanks' ? "he said, a light grin on his face that I didn't catch.  
  
"Now, now, hero, I don't need that polite shit, "I said dryly, rolling my eyes.  
  
"Fine. Have it your way, then, "he replied quietly.  
  
Sincerely, I don't know how he even manage to pass his Potions classes. I've been paired up with him several times, mostly for dear Snape's sole pleasure, not to mention mine, and believe me, he truly sucks. I don't know how he can though. He mostly has to stick to the instructions. Or maybe he doesn't give a flying fuck about brewing potions...Though I always did say Potter's had a lifelong pass to the moon. Uses it frequently, I might add.  
  
As I indicated some things to him, I, once more, was truly stunned when he wrote everything I told him to. Never did he once complain, argue, protest with me. He did ask some questions about it but he never did fight or insult me. I would've seen him tried. After all, I was helping him, my worst rival. Well, I did say I'd do anything to pull myself out of this incredible dullness.  
  
"So, no friends, huh, Malfoy ? "he casually asked me.  
  
"Don't seem like it, Potter. And I see Weasel and Granger ain't there, "I replied coolly.  
  
"No, Hermione's gone home with Ron. I knew they would end up together. I remember quite clearly saying to them to stop arguing and start going out together. Well, they did hook up though they're still arguing. 'Guess it keeps the fire alive, "he started speaking senseless.  
  
What the hell ? He just started talking like there was no tomorrow, speaking to me like we had been friends all along. What the hell had gotten into him ? Sure I was helping him but it stopped there, didn't it ? Of course it did. What was I thinking ? That we could forgive and forget and become friends ? Forget five years of hate ? Forget who we were, where we came from ? I think not. You Potter. Me Malfoy. That was final.  
  
Was it ?  
  
No way in fucking hell would I become friends with Golden Boy. I tried once and he threw it back in my face. No one throws a Malfoy's friendship in his face. Not even the bloody Boy Who Lived. Not even him, no one, I tell you. I can still remember the glare Father gave me when I told him that. Pure anger. And the lecture I had gotten. It scared me to death. Literally.  
  
Not because of what Potter had done to me but because of what I couldn't achieve. I was soiling once again our name and he didn't like it. I was ruining our reputation. I can still hear him clearly 'Damn, Draco. You still can't get anything right,'. It had ripped my heart out, stung my flesh, burned my ears.  
  
But I didn't let it get to me. Kept my cool I did. I managed to purse my lips so tightly I thought I was going to make them bleed to death. I managed to narrow my eyes so tightly I thought my eyes were going to pop out of their orbits. I had to. I had to be brave in appearance at least. I had to demonstrate that I had been listening, that I had learned. Proud Malfoy, remember ?  
  
"Hey ! "Potter said, waving his hand annoyingly in front of my face.  
  
"Stop that, Potty. Annoying git, "I said without any conviction. "What do you want ? You did want something, right ? For waving your wand around like that ?"I smirked.  
  
"Wank off, Malfoy, "he replied, no more persuaded than I. "I asked you why you were here and not with your family, "he repeated quietly. "You of all people I'd thought would be returning home with your family."  
  
"Tch, Potter. Family ? What is a family ? People who share the same you do or people that care about you and love you ? "I asked bitterly.  
  
His eyes widened, mine slightly blinked when I realized what exactly was that I just said. But I just kept it cool, Malfoy, you know. Yet, I had just admitted that being a Malfoy didn't matter. It was as if I just confessed that I'd rather have a loving, Muggle family instead of a heartless, powerful wizard of a father. No, he was too daft to understand up to that point. He couldn't. I mean, I'm proud of being Draco Malfoy, am I not ?  
  
Sometimes, mostly not. I think I don't care about being a Malfoy anymore. I'd just wear the name for Mum, just for her. Although, in that case, I should wear Black. Like that Sirius guy. I think they were cousins, something like that. Heard he was Potter's godfather. The one that got killed. Oh, well. I'll stick to Malfoy, it is, after all, a matter of time before I'll get disowned, disnamed.  
  
"I'd take the latter. Merlin knows what kind of blood-related family I've to return to, "he answered seriously. "But, knowing you, I'd say it's more of your dad than your mum you're speaking of. I've seen the care and love in her eyes when we saw each other at the Quidditch Cup. "  
  
"None of your business, "I muttered.  
  
"Come on, Malfoy. Talk to me. You said yourself you were bored and you'd do anything, "he pointed out, smirking.  
  
"Oh, right, bring that up in my face again. Though, I must say, you poking in my family business isn't what I had in mind to liven things up a bit, "I replied dryly.  
  
"Gee, you're such a stuck-up, Malfoy. It's not like I'll go shouting it on the roofs of the school. I'll keep quiet about it. I swear."  
  
"Stuck up ? You're the bloody Golden Boy !"I retorted. "Coming from Harry- I'm-Dumbledore's-favourite-pet-student-Potter !"I exclaimed, incredulous.  
  
And then, he did something that completely shocked the boots off me, he did something I'd never thought he would do. He laughed at my joke ! He bloody laughed at a joke that I made. He laughed in the same manner he would have if the Weasel or MudBlood had made a joke. He laughed and it was good to hear. A sincere, genuine laugh. I think I needed that. Because, you know what ? I bloody joined him ! Stupid mistake.  
  
We were laughing like sodding idiots. It was unbelievable. Because all knew of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and his rivalry with Draco Malfoy, the Boy Who Will Be a Most Promising Death Eater. We laughed a long time till I had to hold my ribs because they were hurting. He laughed hard too. It had been a long time since I'd laughed like that. At some point, I didn't remember why we starting laughing in the first place.  
  
Oh, right. Because of that thing I said, that I had intended as an insult and that he had took wrongly. Not that it was a bad thing though. I thought we needed that. To relax a bit, to let out that tension between us that had been there from the beginning. I thought it was a good thing to happen. Merlin only knew why the hell I had thought that.  
  
We looked at each other for a bit. Then we stopped. A chuckle, a giggle here and there. And then, I don't know how the bloody hell it came up, but we began talking. Serious talk not silly chitchat. Talked about nearly everything we did. About why he hadn't gone with the Mud Blood and the Weasel, about how he felt left out, about how he was frustrated for Merlin knows what, about how bored we were...  
  
We even talked about when we first met, about the second and third time we saw each other. We talked as if we had been long-time friends, catching up, that's all. We talked about how we felt. I even allowed myself to talk about how I felt when he rejected me though I never did talk about Father or Mum. And he never did press the matter further. Perhaps he had forgotten about it though.  
  
We passed the whole afternoon talking about everything and about nothing. And I actually enjoyed myself. And I've no doubt he did too. It was quite strange when I paused to think about it. Which wasn't quite often. I felt good for one of the rare times in my life. I felt at ease. I felt as if we really were friends. And I think somewhere, deep inside, I wished we were. Just by that day, I felt he was a good friend. Even if he wasn't mine. And never would be.  
  
"Hey, Malfoy, I've an idea, "he said suddenly.  
  
"What, you !?"  
  
"Oh, hush, I'm serious here, "indeed he was, "Well, since we're both alone on Christmas, without any friends, why don't we call a truce for the holidays ? I mean, it'd be better than to sulk alone in separate corners...What d'you say ?"  
  
Bloody hell, Potter ! Stop startling me like that ! How many times now ? Four, five ? Six ? But that was indeed unexpected. Not unwanted though. Unexpected, that's all. A truce. For the holidays. That meant it'd be over when school would start. Not that I'd want it any other way. Not that I'd want to be permanent friends with our national hero. Or did I ? Perhaps...  
  
"Why not ? "I replied after a moment.  
  
I held my hand to him. You better not throw this in my face again because I swear, I'll hex you into oblivion. But he just smiled and shook my hand. It had been longer than just a friendly shake. But I couldn't make out of this anymore than it was: a friendly shake of hands. Though I thought I did see a bit of colours creeping up on his cheeks. But he turned away on the couch.  
  
Because we were on the couch then, a couch that had magically appeared out of nowhere. And we were about a meter away from each other and I didn't felt the urge to curse him to his death. I didn't felt the need to insult him. I felt...good ? There I go again. Making out of this more than it really was. We fell in a comfortable silence.  
  
I stole a glance at him, took his looks in while he wasn't watching. He wasn't that bad, not as bad as I thought. He was good-looking in fact. Apart from those damn, ridiculously big glasses, he was pretty attractive. And that scar, I know I've teased him about it a lot but it was rather becoming of him. A part of him. I could make out a nicely-shaped body through his shirt.  
  
Don't go screaming around for nothing. I play for both teams. I always did. It had been public for some time now. I swing both ways. Girls, boys, I really don't care, as long as they're a good shag, as long as they make a night's worth, then it's fine by me. And, hero, here, looked more than shaggable. I think I'd molest him right here and now.  
  
If there wasn't the fact that he was Potter, the fact that he was Golden Boy, the fact that he would not be willing, as I said before, I was not, never had been, never will be, a bloody rapist and did I say the fact that he was Potter ? Though some part of me sure did not seem to mind. Even if it was Harry Bloody Potter we were talking about.  
  
"So, you never did answer my question, "he noticed, speaking finally.  
  
"No, indeed, I did not and they are not matters I wish to discuss with you or anybody else for that matter, "I said, coolly. Wait a minute that sounded like I was trying to pacify my bitter remark. Ugh.  
  
"Oh, be that way, Malfoy, won't you ? No wonder you're all alone on Christmas if you don't want to talk about anything to anyone. Fine with me. Keep all of to yourself like you know how to, shove that sodding truce up your arse and bloody wank off ! "he burst out.  
  
Furious, he quickly stood up, gathering his things together, in a rather poor attempt, if I might. Though he did not seem to care. What was up with him anyway ? Just because I offered to help him didn't mean we were friends all of a sudden. What was he thinking ? Gods, I mean, that a was rather pissed Potter I just saw darting off. For nothing in my opinion.  
  
There are just things one don't want to talk about and even less with your lifelong rival. Even less with the Golden Boy, with the Boy Who Lived, with Perfect Potty. Family was one of those taboos with me, even I acted as though I was proud of it. Of Father, of Mum, of our name, of our reputation. Well, I did rant about them with my Slytherins mates but with Potter ? No fucking way.  
  
How would he feel if I asked him what he felt about witnessing Diggory's death at the hands of Voldemort ? How would he feel talking about that Black mate's death ? He wouldn't be too keen on talking about it to me, he barely speaks of it to anyone. No, I'm not interested in his life but rumours and gossip do come round, even to the deep, dark dungeons of Slytherins. I knew exactly how he would react if I were to ask him.  
  
He would bloody stare at me for a moment then literally explode right in front of me. He would flush a bright red. He would either take out his wand and try and hex me or would resort to brutal force. He would insult me, tell me to sod off. He would have smoke rising from his ears. And, of course, he would lose his house at least a hundred points. Two hundred if he got caught by Snape. But that's beside the point.  
  
Oh, blast it. I must be really bored to think about him non-stop. About Perfect Potty, Goodness gracious. About how I claim to know how he would react. About how I claim to know him when we are bloody enemies since day one. About how...Oh, for Heaven's sake, Malfoy, stop thinking about Golden Boy...I even thought of shagging him. Ugh.  
  
That's it. I'm cracked. I was talking to myself in the middle of that godforsaken Room of Requirements with some first years lurking in the halls, lost like shit, scared like shit as I stormed past them. I'm not that scary, come on. Well, maybe so. I am a Malfoy, I am a Slytherin, I am a sixth year and I was bloody pissed at Potter. Maybe they did have good reasons. Though. Learn to live with it, they'll get to scare off first years in a couple of years. Best of luck, mates. 


	3. Who Are We ?

Chapter three, 'Who are we ?'  
  
Christmas arrived slowly, too slowly in my opinion. Each day seemed to be twice as long as they should be. The best day I had, I'm sorry to say, was that day with Potter. Bloody ironic. The following days were nothing to ride home about, not that I'd get to ride home about something, thank you so much, Father. Be sure I'll remember this one well and long.  
  
I had not seen our Golden Boy since that outburst he took out on me. And somehow, somewhere, I felt that there was something missing in me. Some thirst not quenched, some hunger not satisfied. I truly had felt at ease with Potter. I had felt something new. Well, maybe not that new, there was Blaise after all, but perhaps more...fulfilled ?  
  
I had realized that we were not that different from each other. Of course, he had a crappy childhood with dim Muggles for family, of course, he never any friends before Hagrid and the Weasel in his eleventh year of age, of course, he had lost his godfather, a mere two years after reuniting, of course, everyone expected him to defeat Lord Voldemort, of course, everyone had high hopes for the Saviour of the Wizarding World.  
  
And then, there was me. Draco Malfoy, ultimate arch nemesis of the Boy Who Lived, son of an inner-circle Death Eater and promising one himself to boot. Though I won't go as far as to say I had as worse of childhood as him, it wasn't all gold and shimmers, I never had a single friend except that annoying Pansy girl who always wanted to play dress-up and dollies, future couple bonding they had called it before they had realized that it wouldn't work.  
  
Because Lucius Malfoy quickly took in that miss Parkinson would not make his son happy, when he was proud of his successor that is, and that would not do. And he also saw that the poor girl, even at only seven to ten years old, was horribly unattractive and that it would ruin or damage the Malfoy image or reputation, so the calling-off wasn't all that selfless. There had been personal motives.  
  
Of course, I had my dear mother, to which he could refer to either the Weasel Clan or that Black mate, though, it wasn't as much as I had, I'll give you that. Yet I had high expectations for my own future also. I was obviously expected to take after dear father in the Dark Lord's very inner circle. Sometimes, I even wondered if there wasn't some twisted relationship between those two. I had nightmares for a week's worth after that but that's besides the point.  
  
The fact was, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were not all that glittered and not all that different. All that talking we did really opened my eyes. But I wasn't not sure it will change many things. I was positive things will stay just the way they were. I was not about to fall in his arms and confess my undying love or admiration or repentance or anything. I wasn't even sure I'd talk to him again.  
  
And that truce. Ah yes, that truce, that peace offering, that temporary treaty. I had no idea what went through his brain to propose such thing and even less on what went on with me to accept. We bloody even shook on it. Ugh. But I guess, it was over. Fires were open again because, how did he so nicely phrase it ? Ah yes, I could 'shove it up my arse and bloody wank off'. There.  
  
I didn't suppose that meant he was thanking me for such lovely afternoon spent with moi. Such ungratefulness, such manners. However, he wasn't that off track when he said that I'd prefer to be with him than to stay all alone. I didn't like it all that much playing solitary. If I spent too much time alone, these thoughts tended to emerge. Leaving me alone was never a good choice. Not for too long at least.  
  
I smiled sadly at my wrists. Two finely-traced cuts were born on them. My life wasn't all that sparkle. My life wasn't a game. I tried it. I did try to end my days. Once was just when Potter had thrown back my offer in my face, the other one was not too long after Lord Voldemort's miraculous return in my fourth year at Hogwarts.  
  
I was just tired of fighting Father, I was just tired of hearing the upset tone he always had when he talked to me or the distant one. I don't know which was worse, I couldn't say. And Mum became distant too. I didn't understand at first. But now...She knew that I was to become one of the Dark Lord's most loyal Death Eater, she knew how the Aurors would be on our trace, how I could die, how he could die too.  
  
I think she wanted to pretend she didn't care anymore to try to appease the grief she would suffer when the worse would be happening. She had no doubts on which side would win. Not where her heart was. Not where her allegiance was supposed to be. Not where her family stood. Perhaps it was the good thing to do. Perhaps she was right. But it hurt, it bloody hurt.  
  
I hated that bastard. A sodding Half Blood to boot. A conceited loser. Someone I'd be forced to bow down to, someone I'd be forced to kiss his robe's hem, to kiss his hands, to come each time that damn mark would burn, to kill each time he would point. I was never into that serial killer and torturing just for fun shit. Not my thing. It's pretty ironic when you think about it.  
  
Me, Draco Malfoy, did not want to become a Death Eater and a most promising Dark Wizard.  
  
------  
  
Christmas dinner arrived too quickly in my opinion. That damn day just flew by. for once, I'd have been happy to have it slowly passing by. We were all required to assist the evening Yule banquet. Bloody fantastic. A couple of hours spent with a bunch of first years losers, with the teachers, with everyone in a cheerful mood. But most importantly with Harry Bloody Potter.  
  
I didn't know why I didn't want to see him again. Normally I would have seen it as a good opportunity to piss him like there was no tomorrow but there would be teachers and bloody cheerful first years and I wasn't even sure I'd want to talk to him. Nobody does such much as to bellow at a Malfoy and that damn did seem to know the rules.  
  
Not like he would respect them, he'd always be inclined to pass right past them and of course, Dumbledore, being Dumbledore, would bend them for him and even give out bloody House points to him and his little gang. Guess there were bonuses to being everyone's little role model and saviour and hero an champion and everything that came with the job description.  
  
He didn't choose it, riiight. I ought to remember that. He was brought to horrible Muggles and told by them that his parents were good-for-nothing and got killed in a car accident while pissed off their arses. That'd be more incentive though. And I'm joking for once. That surely had been a hit when he learned the truth. Finding out all about wizards and Voldemort.  
  
There I was again, trying to understand who was Harry Potter, trying to be somewhat human towards what he'd been through, trying to be more than civilized about him. I bloody hate him, made me feel all soft and...supportive and compassionate...and caring ? Ugh, definitively ugh. Great, now, I'll be having more nightmares. I better ask Snape for that dreamless draught. Might make my life easier, if only just for a bit. Don't need haunting my dreams also.  
  
Harry-Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice-and-Thrice-and-Losing-Count-Who'll-Haunt- Me-Potter.  
  
------  
  
I can't remember how I got myself there. I clearly didn't remember getting out of my bed, dressing up, strolling down the dungeons and emerging up in the Great Hall. Perhaps I was sleep-walking after I had sleep-risen and sleep-dressed. Or maybe I had convinced myself that it was better than staring at the ceiling. Or maybe I was afraid of what lurked in the dark corners, waiting for me to close my eyes or let my guards down. I'd be more inclined towards the latter...  
  
Maybe I could pick a fight with Potter or something like that. Not that I was in the mood for spats and insults but hell, anything and everything was good. Perhaps he'd hex me so bad I'd end up in the Hospital Wing for the rest of the Holidays, not to mention in a deep coma, in a grave state of unconsciousness. Maybe he would do it if I paid him ? No. I don't think he'd do it.  
  
Bugger that.  
  
Christmas banquet with Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Trewlaney, that demi- giant mate and all those others nitwits. Plus those few first years, plus that weird bloke from Ravenclaw and the top nerd of HufflePuff. Oh, but don't we even dare to forget about our national champion, the Boy Who Lived Too Long For His Own Good. Oops, sorry, Harry Potter, my mistake. Hehe.  
  
Thinking back on what I said about me knowing best Potty, I found it bloody amusing if not downright ironic. I know him best besides perhaps that Weasel and the Granger girl. Even more now. They're his friends, it'd be normal. And even then, Crabbe and Goyle don't know me that much if I think about it, Blaise a bit more. They just laugh like goddamm puppets programmed to do anything and everything I want.  
  
Potter told me things that afternoon I was sure he did not ever tell to his beloved friends. Potter trusted me that afternoon perhaps more than he ever trusted them. He could have told me he was gay, could have been bloody coming out, and it would not have surprise me. Though sometimes it had felt as if he had forgotten all about me and was just talking to himself.  
  
It was just as if he needed a opportunity to trigger a lot a babble. And, or course, normally, I don't like being ignored. But it had felt good that he trusted me this much to say those things in front of me, me, Draco Malfoy, his ultimate rival. I had just let him utter about nothing, about everything, about how he sometimes was lost, about how he sometimes didn't know who he was anymore.  
  
He had told me that now and again, he would look at himself in the mirror and would not recognize the boy he would see. The boy would frown as him, lift his arm, shift, smile as him, he would even look exactly like him. But the sadness in the eyes of the boy he saw was some sadness he was not aware he felt, the loneliness born in the green pools that would be staring at him would not be something he thought he had previously felt.  
  
Why should he feel alone ? That alone ? He had friends, goods friends, best mates. He had the Weasel, the Mud Blood, the thick cunt, that annoying git and his brother who always took pictures of him, the Weaselette, the two others Gryffindorks who seemed to be shagging, those Hufflepuffs folks, that Ravenclaw Prefect Chinese girl who I heard had been dating him and his countless fans in his countless fanclubs. He had plenty of friends.  
  
Damn I hate the word 'friend'. I hate the word 'friendship'. I hate what they mean, what they represent, I hate it all. Why, you ask ? It's simple, really, quite logical, in my opinion. I never had any real friends, I never had anyone to talk to when I was sad or happy, when I wanted to talk about my dreams, talk about...just about how I felt, how Father infuriated me, yet again. I wanted friends, real friends. Tough luck. Not such luck for Draco Malfoy.  
  
------  
  
I knew, I saw all of what made Harry Potter him. I didn't tell him though in that curious afternoon. There had been a limit not to trespass after all, rules to be respected. Even if I had disobeyed a lot of them. I could not count them on the fingers of my hand not even if you made that two. I had bonded with the enemy, I ha talked about myself, my past, my feelings, I had shown emotions other that anger, annoyance. I had been a very bad boy.  
  
But I didn't tell him who I thought was Harry Potter. How I had seen the many faces he had had some time or another. I saw him angry, sad, defeated, scared, bored, frustrated, triumphant, heroic, cheerful, arrogant, hopeful, vulnerable, confused, cynical. I saw all of Harry Potter period. One does show things to his life old rival, even if one does not want to. It just comes out. Like something natural.  
  
However, I would be surprised if he told me he knew me like I knew him. After all, Malfoys do possess that skill of hiding their emotions well. It's such as a test, an examination with a permit at the end or a certificate, a diploma, to become a fully-fledged Malfoy though one should not have to pass a test to be acknowledge by their family but that's beside the point again.  
  
I could almost predict which Potter I'd have to deal with ; the noble, heroic Gryffindor, the nasty, scheming Slytherin, the excited, annoying Muggle or the simply dead, numb Potter. I swear, I was almost an expert in the art of being Harry bloody Potter. Bleech, I can't believe I just said that. Most sickening. Draco Malfoy, Pottology expert. Ugh.  
  
------  
  
"Ah, Mr Malfoy ! How good of you to come join us ! Merry Christmas to you !"a cheerful voice greeted me as I stepped in the Great Hall.  
  
"Erm...Merry Christmas to you too, Headmaster, "I replied civilly, settling myself on a very faraway chair.  
  
"Here, have you one these, "he said jovially as I brushed past him.  
  
I stopped a bit, getting annoyed. I looked up and he was offering me a weird, long, shiny thing. I glanced at Snape and he silently urged me to take and be done with it. At least, I wasn't the only one not wanting to be here. Dear Snape, never was the social, mingling type. I don't even know why he became a teacher in the first place.  
  
"Thanks, sir, "I said shortly as I continued to the end of the table.  
  
All that red, all that green, all those lights, all those ribbons, all those decorations ; it made me sick. Made me want to retch. Even if there was green. There was red too. Gryffindor red. Ugh. I truly hated Christmas and even more Christmas at Hogwarts. It was too warm, inviting, cheerful, friendly. It was too much for me. Even if I hated being alone. Some issue I had back then...Sometimes, I still do.  
  
But right now, I craved for the dark, cold, lonely dungeons. Most surprising seeing as I knew well what would be waiting for me down there. I was going to be sick very soon with this overly joyous room and these overly joyous persons. Well, I noted with satisfaction, I wasn't the only one unhappy with this. Snape was as grim as ever. His usual self perhaps. His lips were so thin I thought he had Vanished them. I thought his face would break up if he didn't loosen up a bit.  
  
Ah, some emotions showing. What seemed to be the matter, Snape ? I followed his gaze only to stop on the one person I didn't want to see today. One more thing to add on my list 'Reasons that this Christmas sucked senseless'. Great, can't write it down. But It wasn't like I was going to forget anytime soon. Snape wasn't as half glad as I was to see Golden Boy entering the room and as a fourth as I when he sat down right next to me. Wanker.  
  
I almost prayed he wouldn't talk to me. Almost, I said. After all, Malfoys don't pray, Malfoys are proud. But I didn't want him to start blabbing about how I'm a heartless bastard, a cold, selfish, fucker. Or pretend he didn't make me a scene yesterday and start blabbing about his little friends or whatever. Pretend that his little truce was still going on. Pretend, just bloody pretend.  
  
I wasn't in the mood to bear the Malfoy smirk, I wasn't in the mood to rant about the Malfoy pride, I wasn't in the mood to defend the Malfoy honour. I wasn't in the mood to be insulted like there was no tomorrow. Hell, I wasn't sure I'd even try to. Perhaps I'd even agree with him. Damn. I just wanted to eat in peace and to get the hell out. Don't talk to me, Potter, don't open your damn righteous mouth.  
  
"Malfoy, "he acknowledged me with a nod. Fucker.  
  
"Potter, "I replied with a snort, sinking down in my seat.  
  
Tough luck to me. Come on, Potter. Can't you see I just wanted to be left in peace, alone ? No, I guess you didn't see that. After all, you don't possess the Malfoy reading ability like I do. Well, you're not a Malfoy for one. And you've got one hell of a thick head. Too bad. But even you can't be that daft, can you ?  
  
You could at least send me to the Hospital Wing in that coma I dreamed about, couldn't you ? I'm even willing to pay good money. Just bloody put me out of this torture until the start of classes in the new year. Oh great. I had forgotten about the New Year Diner. But I had to remember that now, hadn't I ? Ironic shit.  
  
Oh, stop staring at me like that, Potter. I tried to use the icy stare at you. He shoots, he scores ! Maybe you did see it. You didn't open your mouth again. Thank Merlin. I was beginning to think you truly were that thickhead. Why should I care, huh ? Well, it wouldn't flatter me if you were that dim seeing as you're my long-time rival and all. Yeah, it's all about me and my name. All about me, Draco Malfoy. 


	4. Consumed

Notes : Thank you for all the reviews already !! You just made my day ! ^^  
  
Chapter four, 'Consumed'  
  
Fortunately enough, the diner went by rather quickly. It was actually quite amusing from where I stood. Snape, I'm sorry to say, granted not really, was in fact the center of said amusement, being harassed by either Dumbledore, on one side, who wanted him to sing along, to laugh, to enjoy himself, to simply be merry, or by that sixth year girl from Ravenclaw, I think, eyeing him hungrily.  
  
Ugh. I mean, how could she possibly...? Even I, who give everyone a chance, bring up those naughty thoughts of yours, was highly repulsed at the thought to bed him. Oh, I'm not saying I had a go with everybody. Because that would have to include the Golden Trio. You could make that everybody minus three though. Hehe. I was a busy boy, what can I say. But Snape ? Ugh. That was a really nasty thought. Oh well.  
  
Poor Snape was trapped. I thought I had seen some colour creeping up on his cheeks. Our favourite Potions Master didn't seem to know how to flirt back. And who cared if she was Ravenclaw and student ? Just bloody flirt back and have fun. Bed her even. But it seemed to me that Snape had been running away for too long of the dating scene. Who could prefer damn cauldrons and brews to a good shag ?  
  
Some people I'll never understand...I'd never pass up on an opportunity. And don't you dare bring that bloody dreadful afternoon in that Room of Rodents or something along these lines. This did not count as a sodding opportunity. This did not count as anything. Again with that bloody Potter. Lately, it seemed that he was everywhere in my mind. Was it better than others, perhaps...But it was bloody Potter we were talking about. Ironic shit.  
  
Ah yes, it appeared our dearly beloved Potter was not the mingling type either. He had just sat down besides me with a dark air about him, emerald eyes blank, grave frown on his face, and had sulked during all of the meal. His head was bowed down on his plate and he just pushed around his food. It seemed Hero wasn't all that happy to be here. At least, I wasn't alone to feel that way.  
  
Don't try to bring up that 'I found out we were pretty much alike' shit I said earlier. Wankers.  
  
Hopefully, he didn't try to talk to me again. Phew. He spared me some small talk, some polite natters about Merlin only knew. And I wasn't up to a fight with Golden Boy, even if I did say otherwise earlier. I was too tired, too bored, too depressed. I really didn't need a catfight with Potter. He seemed to have understood that I wanted to be left alone. Well, not literally because you know as well as I did what would happen there...  
  
Dark dungeons, dark corners, dark thoughts slithering their way in my mind, dark schemes lurking around ready to assault me. Leaving me alone on the day of Christmas would definitively not be a great idea...Both times I had tried it, both times I had stopped. Not because of a noble reason such as 'I can turn my life around, I can be better', no, not so much as that. More in the lines of 'I'll stay alive just to haunt you and piss you off, Father'.  
  
But that year was a bit different. Some would call it the last straw, the breaking point. Yet I wasn't as much as angry as I was miserable. Anger wasn't really a problem. Anger came, went. But this was always there. These voids, this hollowness inside of me, one so newly filled and just as quickly emptied. Damn him. Damn him and his bloody scar. The other one was just plain vacant. It had always been that way. Damn him. Damn him and his Half Blood. Damn everyone.  
  
"So, you decided to honour us with your presence ? "he asked me innocently. Not now, Potty. "Sod off, Hero, "I said a little more loudly than I should.  
  
"Language, Mr Malfoy. "  
  
Who just said that ? I looked up only to see two reproachful eyes glaring at me. Right, McGonagall. That Scottish woman, damn I hated her. I swept my gaze around. Dumbledore had his blue eyes staring straight at me but not with the usual scowl teachers gave me, rather a soft support, a sparkling amusement. What the hell was wrong with that man ? Beside him, Snape had pursed his lips, quirking a brow at me.  
  
Damn. What the hell did they want ? What the hell were they thinking about Pots and me ?  
  
"Yeah, sure, Professor, "I drawled out. "I'm not in the mood for insults and even less for chitchat, "I said shortly. He looked taken aback a bit.  
  
"Oh, stop with the rubbish, Malfoy, "he said, dismissive, recovering quickly. "Quit the act, I'm not taking it, not a single drop."  
  
"Oh, nobody asked you to take it and surely not every single drop of it, Potter, "I snapped back, annoyed.  
  
And there came no replies. No witty comeback, nothing. He just stared at me. Confused. Oh, don't tell me he didn't catch it. Good grief. Slowly, his eyes widened and he was left open-mouthed as he finally understood what I had meant. He looked almost adorable, childish, vulnerable, not the young man he was, not the one who had escaped death for five times, but who's counting ?  
  
Damn him. All my anger, my annoyance vanished. To the hells with him. He was not making me laugh, he was not making me smile. He was not amusing me, not in the good, the right, sense anyway. I pressed my lips together firmly, trying to repress the inevitable. That bloody smile was bound to come up, I knew it but it just couldn't. Bloody Potter.  
  
Oh, blast it all. I couldn't help it. I smiled despite myself. However. He didn't say a thing, not right away at any rate. I did hear him gasp though...A small, sharp intake of air. In the fashion that it made me consider that it wasn't customary. He blinked a few times and then, his green eyes were burning with a fire I had yet to say, changed from how I was used to see them. A wicked spark, almost evil.  
  
Oh, well. Not important. Maybe the punch was spiked. Maybe he took a lethal potion. Hurray !  
  
"My, Malfoy, "he said, putting a hand to his chest, "I didn't know I had that effect on you ! I'm surprised you didn't try to molest me that day, "he said dramatically.  
  
Not again. Please, do not make me laugh. Do not make me laugh at a joke you made. Of all people to make me genuinely laugh without any nastiness. Of all the folks present here, he had to be the one. Couldn't he just had shut his goddamn mouth for once ? Perhaps Snape was right; perhaps celebrity did go straight to the head of Golden Boy here. He really should learn to shut the fuck up.  
  
"There..."he said, moving slightly closer towards me.  
  
And with that he put his hand on my forehead. He bloody had put his hand on my forehead. Potters did not touch Malfoys' forehead. I crossed my eyes up at his hand on my skin. What on Earth did he think he was doing ? He was bloody touching me. He really was up to get me that evening. He would eventually conquer if he didn't stop the unceasing assaults somewhere around...now.  
  
His hand lingered there for a bit again. It felt odd. It felt new. It felt soft. I did not like the surge of thoughts and feelings flowing through my mind. I wrinkled my nose and caught his eye. He quickly withdrew his hand from my forehead, not without a hint of sheepishness. I smirked at that, he snorted in reply.  
  
I had to fight the disgusting urge to touch my skin where his hand had remained earlier. It was a truly revolting want. I felt something inside me warm up, melt, soften. No ! Wasn't there boundaries to him ? Not even a little tinge of self-restraint either ? He had not brought up these sensations in me. And he certainly had not aroused me. Dammit ! He had not just touched me period.  
  
Close your eyes, mate, take a deep breath, open your eyes, it was a mere dream. Just a dream.  
  
"Don't start and hyperventilate on me, Malfoy, "he said, smirking. "You'll get people talking."  
  
"Don't mix your dreams and reality, Potty, "I managed to say.  
  
"Oh, I wouldn't say I'm confounding anything here, "he said suggestively.  
  
When did Potter became me and when did I became Potter ? Someone help me out here.  
  
"Calm down your bloody hormones. I'm starting to think I'll be the one getting the molesting."  
  
"Perhaps...would you enjoy it ? "he said, quirking a brow.  
  
Snap out of it, Malfoy, get a grip, do something ! This was getting quite out of control. I did not like that Potter. That was a Potter I did not know and I was feeling I had been better that way. That Potter had aroused me. Hell, that Potter was worrying me. I rather preferred small talks to an unknown Potter flirting with me. I usually did the flirting, the molesting. I did not back up against a wall. Damn him.  
  
Potter looked at me for a while, something ghosted over his eyes, he blinked a few times and seemed surprised not to say the least. He didn't appear to know what had been going on for the last fifteen minutes that had passed. Perhaps he was high, stoned, whatever ? Perhaps he was wanking off under the table...One never knows. Time to change the direction of this bloody conversation.  
  
"So, Potty, tell me. What the hell was that about that other day ? "I enquired, trying to change the subject. "When you told me and I quote 'shove that sodding truce up your arse and bloody wank off'. Ring a bell in that thing you call a brain, hero ?"I explained at his perplexed stare.  
  
"What ? Oh. Right. That. Erm...sorry 'bout that, Malfoy. I just...Well...you know how it is...It's just been hard...to...you see what I mean and then you...I, erm, I just couldn't then..."he replied sheepishly.  
  
Ah, one of the Potter I knew and liked, oh, keep on your knickers, will you: the shy, naive one.  
  
"No, "I said simply.  
  
"No ? What do you mean no ? "he asked me, dumbfounded. "Was it even a yes or no question ?"  
  
"What the hell are you talking about ? I meant no, 'no', as in I don't see what you mean, Potter, "I explained idly.  
  
"Oh, yeah, sorry. Well, it just has been a hard week, a hard year...I guess I just had it too much piled up and I had to get it out...Sorry I took it on you, "he said. Dear Merlin, not again.  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"Really should learn to control my temper, huh ? Just like 'Mione always says...Well, Ron does think that too...Doesn't want to meddle too much though, I guess...Or doesn't want to upset his girlfriend. Maybe it's both...You see, if he shuts up then leaves me in peace and he doesn't speak up his mind to 'Mione about shutting up too so I guess he ends up a two- time winner in that case.  
  
"It's really funny though how Ron's afraid of 'Mione. She really wears the pants of the relationship. You should've seen him when she started dating Krum, you know, Krum the Quidditch player, the TriWizard participant of Durmstrang, Bulgarian and all. He really learned what jealousy and passing up on your chance meant.  
  
"Hopefully, he had another one. 'Mione and him went to the Yule Ball last year. Hooked up there. Great thing Dumbledore reinstated it. Well, I don't like too much of dancing and all, perhaps because I can't dance properly though I never did dance before the fourth year Yule Ball, that was really a catastrophe. Hopefully that Parvati girl was there, though she wasn't very pleased with me...  
  
"And..." He just went on and on about everything, anything, nothing. Headache incoming.  
  
Heavens come to my help, here my plea, I summon thee. Help me shut this babbling pit, help me slay this jabbering git or at least put up with this gibberish boy they all call a myth. Hehe.  
  
But I'll tell you something. But something of higher importance than controlling his temper, which is by the way very annoying, one other thing he should do was that he really needed to learn was to shut the fuck up. I had had it with his idiotic blabber. Just when I opened my mouth, all set with a clever retort, something in my head, in my whole body snapped.  
  
I flinched as I gasped loudly. This pain had just appeared, out of bloody nowhere. A poignant ache. Not just a little headache. It was truly unbearable, not like that tale with that Hippogriff...It burned through me, it froze my bones, it smouldered my flesh, it chilled my bowels. It was everywhere at the same time. It was excruciating. I couldn't take it anymore. I hated it. I was suffocating, I needed to breathe. Deep breaths. Didn't work.  
  
Well, just a bit. I did managed to suck in a bit of air, nothing to ride home about, nothing spectacular. I wanted more, I needed more, I was almost begging for it. A Malfoy begging, damn. Oh, I did say 'almost'. It was horrible, I struggle for a breath, I bent down. I could feel tears gathering up at the corners of my eyes, my throat was parched, it was hard to swallow, I could sense a fever rising, anger forming, blood boiling. What the fuck was happening ? And then, it stopped. Just as fast as it came.  
  
I closed my eyes, tightened my lips together, breathed deeply. It was over yet my heart was still pounding, my breathing still ragged. I tried to relax but it bloody was not working. All I could hear were laughs, jokes, cheerful voices. I felt imprisoned, trapped, alone in a bubble with all this joy surrounding me. A sorrowful bubble. I felt immune to joy. Immune ? No, perhaps...deprived would be more accurate. What fool would be happy to be immune to happiness ? Riiight. Father.  
  
Just thinking about him worsened my state of mind. Bloody not relaxing at all. How dare he let me here ? On Christmas nonetheless ! Easter I could deal with it, that damn bunny, but Christmas ! Of all the things he could do to me, this was by far the worse one. Compared to this, Christmas with him seemed appealing. Well, almost. At least, I would've get to spend it with Mum.  
  
Oh but that would've made me happy. And he wouldn't want to happen. Oh no. Why should he allow me happiness ? Maybe this was a way of punishing me for refusing yet again to bear the Dark Mark. Surely. I made the mistake of telling him twice if not thrice that I would never bow to someone else. Malfoy pride and all. Hell, he was the one teaching me all this Malfoy superiority. Damn him.  
  
And if I tainted the name well, he bloody ruined it. To hell with all the donations, to hell with all the fundraisers, to hell with all the supposedly good actions, to hell with the noble, proper image he had in the eyes of that bastard Fudge. He was allowing someone else to take control of his life, he was willingly bowing down to someone else. A Mud Blood nonetheless. Blood purity my fucking arse.  
  
He would disappear under a mask, becoming nameless, faceless, becoming a servant. He would come running to his master like a sodding dog every time that stinking mark would glow. He would kill only when permitted to, he would only talk when permitted to, he would suffer the Crucius spell without protesting, without rebelling.  
  
I could only hope he would keep his chin high up, he would never flinch, never show regret, never show fear, never show any emotions. I could only wish he would he would never blink, he would never allow him to see his weaknesses, never let his invisible Malfoy mask disappear, never consent to stoop below where Malfoys belonged.  
  
Images rushed through my mind, memories, hidden, well kept, running everywhere. A strident sound accompanied them, it shrieked in my ears. Not again, not bloody again ! I couldn't take it anymore. Just make it stop. Make it stop. Now ! It was just too much to handle. Bloody memories. The worse ones even. Every time Father had been disappointed with me, every bleeding time.  
  
Memories, bad memories, his upset tone, his eyes betraying him, the disappoint that was born in them, Potter when he refused my friendship, Potter when he became Seeker, Potter beating Lord Voldemort again and again, Potter when he beat me at Quidditch, Potter when he flew on that Hippogriff, Potter when he was just Potter.  
  
Memories surging through my mind, my body, my soul, my very essence. Memories destroying every last ounce of pride, self-restraint, strength, composure that I had left. Was it like this, the Crucius curse ? Was it that unbearable ? Or perhaps it was even worse ? How worse could it be ? I already wanted to die from the ache, from the throbbing, from this bloody Christmas.  
  
It hurt. It hurt so much, a stinging pain in my chest. It burned through my flesh, through my skin, it blazed through my very being, through my very eyes. My mouth and my throat were dry. My eyes burned. My blood seemed to jump out of my skin. My heart wanted to die, as clear and simple as that. It wanted to say goodbye and never come back. I just wanted it to stop. Somebody ? Anybody ? Really ? Even Scarface ?  
  
Bloody hell. Yes. Even Scarface. Anybody just finish...me...off...p-p- p...pl...e...a...s...e... 


	5. Set on Fire

Warning: Bit of naughty things down there...hehehe. Remember HMDP slash, only way to have it! And bad, bad, _bad_ language.  
  
AN: I don't even _want_ to look at the 'last update' date because I'm going to cry if I do. I won't even say the S word because I'll fear I'm gonna get whacked... :S I'm just gonna say '_Hallelujah!_' because that's really how I feel right now. I feel victorious to have overcome that nasty WB and that lack of plot too. I'm good now. I even had to cut it out a bit! _I feel good, so good, so good, I feel good!_  
  
Heeere I give you, fifth instalment of 'Ironic'! Tadam!

**_Chapter five, 'Set on Fire'_**  
  
I gasped loudly as I came back to consciousness. The voices, the cheers, the lights, the songs, the odours, the colours, they all came back to me at once, lurching at me. I must have blacked out for a while there. I squinted at the painfully heavy lights, blinked a few times. My thoughts were scrambled, my vision were blurry, my mouth scorched as my eyelids were slowly fluttering open as if my eyelashes had been glued together.  
  
The pain had passed away and I had not idea what caused it. Not this time, not the earlier one.  
  
But now, I could feel the blood in my head pumping frantically, it resounding loudly in my mind, my veins seemed ready to implode, explode, whatever. It was just unpleasant, very unpleasant for that matter but not painful, not yet, at least. I could hear strange voices in the back of my head, all kinds of tones and sounds, girls, boys, men, women, old and young, cheery or sad, angry or calm.  
  
I could also feel several emotions flowing through me, numerous waves of moods, of sensations surging through my chest, but they were emotions that somehow I thought that they did not belong to me. Cheerfulness, happiness, delight, joy, contentment, gladness, brightness. Not feelings I could say I felt often and certainly not today, on this bleak day of Christmas.  
  
However, there was another stream of feelings, of sorrows, fears, doubts, worries and pain too. Crushing emotions, destructing a mind, a soul. I knew these for I had felt them often and still, I did. Feelings of unworthiness, of terror, of defeat, of powers stronger than oneself, or powers capable of killing one's heart and one's hopes, even the one such as fool's hopes. But I felt they were not coming from me.  
  
There was also something else. It felt weird, it felt unhealthy. Although I could not describe it accurately, I could tell it felt empty yet as the same time, it felt as if there was an intrusive, unwanted energy...somewhere. It felt corrupting. I just hoped that I wasn't the target for it felt awfully close to me. Then, all of a sudden, it...electrocuted me? I felt jerked away as if I was the unwanted one.  
  
Poppycock...Gah!  
  
I clutched at my head, trying to stop this unwelcome buzz in my mind but to no avail. It stayed and seemed adamant on staying. I closed my eyes and focused on staying calm, composed, serene. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on...nothing? Well, it did seem to diminish the unsolicited voices and thoughts but only a little. Not as much as I would have wanted. I wondered why I was feeling and thinking these things that did not belonged in my mind.  
  
I thought I had read about it somewhere. The power to feel others' thoughts, other's emotions, others' energy, others' karma, to feel truths and lies. Similar to Legislemency, Empathy, as it was called, was a Gift, not a charm nor a curse though some viewed it as a curse. Not even a complex Mind-Heading Potion could compare to it. It did not show images of past or future nor desires, fears and such, it made the Empath feel through his heart, as if they were his own, others' sentiments.  
  
But Empathy was a rare Gift such as the Gift of Foresight. Seers and Empaths did not roam in hordes at the surface of the Earth. It was a privilege and honour, it was a true offering. Seemingly, those gifts were granted by blood and by blood only. Not a single potion or charm could grant these to one. And even then, it was not definite that one would be bestowed with such a gift even if every single one of their lines had been. A bit like what happened with Squibs.  
  
The last of the Empaths had been seen nearly fifty years ago...Well, the declared ones, at least. But I knew for a fact that that kind of peculiar blood did not flow in my veins because that was not something Father would've hidden from me, he'd rather have flaunt it again and again and he would have made me do it too for it was something to be proud of. But...I had been rather tired these last days, hadn't I been?  
  
Perhaps I had hallucinated everything.  
  
"Hey, Malfoy? You okay? "a bothersome voice asked me.  
  
Well, it wasn't really annoying...but it seemed nosy, worse, it seemed concerned.  
  
"Huh? Potter? What the hell do you want? "I snapped at him, more out of habit really.  
  
"You just passed out, for crying out loud! "he shouted back, furiously running a hand through his hair. "I-I was kinda worried, "he said more softly.  
  
"Merlin's beard, we're bloody enemies, Potter, or haven't you noticed?"  
  
"Have you ever heard of 'worrying about others', 'having a bit of a heart' and 'having something akin to scruples'? Well, have you, Malfoy? "he snapped back with a humph..  
  
And then, he...? Pouted?! Oh goodness' sake.  
  
"Don't try that silly pout with me, hero, it won't bloody well work."  
  
Well, it wouldn't...would it?  
  
"You're not gonna try the conscience thing on me, are you ? "I asked.  
  
I was answered with a stubborn silence, the kind I usually give out.  
  
"Yes, you bloody are. With an extra of the cold shoulder treatment...You're trying to make me feel guilty and sheepish and ashamed and embarrassed and sorry and..."  
  
Merlin, I was rambling. Malfoys do not ramble. Heaven forbid if his tricks were working.  
  
"Well, let me tell you something: it ain't working, "I spat, trying to convince myself more than him. "I must've forget to register for that silly fanclub of yours where each of their followers goes gaga whenever you're around, "I added in what I hoped a snappy comment.  
  
But he had no snide remarks at that for he just stayed silent staring intently at his now empty plate. I heard him gasp oddly again just as he did some time ago that evening. His cheeks were flushed. His breathing sped up, hitching peculiarly. He blinked as if trying to stay awake, as if trying to fight off some curse or hex...actually, perhaps he was choking on his food?  
  
But it had been a while since he'd eaten something, not that I noticed it or anything...  
  
In any case, I saw him suddenly grip the table tightly, his nails firmly clenched on the wood, up to the point where his knuckles went white. His left hand shot up to his brow, massaging his temples. His eyes fluttered open again. I could almost hear But then he exhaled and looked totally composed as if I had just imagined this. Maybe I was tired after all.  
  
An early slumber or at least a nap was definitely in order.  
  
"Yeah riiight, Malfoy, you just wish. How do I know you're not the one presiding said fanclub of mine? "he said, smirking wickedly.  
  
"In your dreams, Potter. I think you're mixing us up our lives here. I'm not about to confess my undying love to you, freak, "I said, trying to remain calm and unruffled. "But, you, on the other side..."  
  
But then, a sudden stream of desire flowed through me, raw lust and hunger. It hit me straight in the chest, heat overcoming all of my body. Barely hidden want and yearning possessed me. His voice resounded in my mind, his then sensual voice talking to me. His words whirled in my ears, around me and hell, I was getting hard, painfully hard, and excruciatingly horny. Just because Potter here was talking to me.  
  
And he wasn't even talking dirty!  
  
Fortunately, it lasted only a mere instant. Still, it seemed too long. I barely heard him telling me to shut up already and before I knew it, I had done something utterly stupid, something dafter than switching for the Light Side or confronting the Dark Lord himself in an one-on-one duel, well, of course, I'd never really admit it. I could have kicked myself senseless just right and there for saying this. For his voice just called to me, my inner voice just pushed me to do it and I sodding did. Do not ever mention this to me again.  
  
"Make me, "I said, Merlin forbid, eyes glinting evilly, licking my lips.  
  
"What!? "he said, wide-eyed.  
  
Well, perhaps it was worth it finally because the look on his face was priceless. Wide, green pools, undoubtedly shocked, stared back at me. Nervously, he licked his lips with an apprehensive tongue. A bit of pink painted his usually pale, porcelain cheeks. He looked somewhat...pretty, flushed like that. Whoa! Let me rephrase that: he looked somewhat silly, flushed like that. There, much, much better!  
  
But...he seemed as if he was different now that he'd been the last couple of minutes...  
  
He seemed shy and reserved now, more like the Potter I always had known and liked. But then again, minutes ago, he seemed impish and foul. He was all at once, as if there were two of him. And I couldn't overlook the surge of desire that overcome me earlier...just when he appeared...different? Evil? My, obviously sharp, inner voice was warning me that something was not right, that I was being fooled.  
  
Could it be an act? Could the Boy Who Lived not be as innocent as one would think? And that damn mind-reading, mind-hearing thing was driving me crazy. There was this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that would not leave until I had finally acknowledged it. The feeling that I was being played with.  
  
No, it could not be. This was Potter we were talking about. Bloody Virgin Potter.  
  
"Don't tell me you didn't figure out the invitation? "I slowly said, arching an eyebrow.  
  
"You know, Malfoy, if I didn't know any better, I'd assume you wanted me to kiss you, "he said, winking.  
  
Winking!? Golden Boy Potter didn't wink after a comment like that. Hell, he didn't make a comment like that. Yet, there it had been. And he had cocked his head to the side as he had said this. He was talking with that husky voice again, which, for further notice, should be forbidden by the law, husky and suggestive. And still, he had bloody managed to remain appearing oh so ingenuous and vulnerable. How he did it was far, far beyond me.  
  
But I noticed that it wasn't the same naivete that of a few minutes ago. It was a bloody naughty naivete as that of earlier was rather genuine. Evil Potter versus Holy Potter. Which was which, which was the real one? That was, again, far, far beyond me. And that damn mind-reading, mind-hearing, mind-feeling trick was bloody letting me down! Gah! Yet it didn't upset me that much finally...  
  
Something down south was beginning to...indispose me. Must've been all this dirty, that hadn't been all that dirty, talk. Or it could've been his sensual, that hadn't been all that sensual, voice. Or it could've been his flushed, pretty, that hadn't been all that pretty, cheeks. Or it could've been the way his delicious-looking, that hadn't been all that delicious-looking, tongue had swept over his red, voluptuous, that hadn't been all that voluptuous, lips. Or it could've been...well, hehe, forget it... Really, forget it.  
  
I bloody said to drop it already! Gah!  
  
It couldn't have been him! Nah, too absurd, way out of reason. It could not have been because of him, him. I mean, c'mon, I hated his guts, I hated him since day one. I hated him, I insulted him, I insulted his friends, I even insulted his dead family! And he insulted me right back, he attacked my friends, my family, my loyalties, my values, my principles, my pride and honour. I'd hex him and he'd punch me back, I'd assault him and he'd curse me right back.  
  
I hated him since the first goddamn time I laid eyes on him!  
  
Erm...well...now, if you think about it carefully, I really started hating him on day number bloody two. Day one had been the encounter of the first boy I could have the chance to befriend at Hogwarts, which'd been only days from starting first term. Day one had been just meeting some new, fresh face, some bloody confused face but adorable altogether. I can just remember how he'd looked when I uttered 'Quidditch' to him. And look at him now: youngest Hogwarts Seeker in over a century!  
  
Talk about some ironic shite.  
  
And really, you'd have to make it 'hated his guts since day two'. On the Hogwarts Express and just before the First Year Sorting. And even though he had publicly refused my friendship as if I was the plague incarnated, I had secretly wished he'd be Sorted into Slytherin too, with me. Because he would've been almost forced to befriend me, to get to know me. And surely enough, I secretly hoped he'd come to like me enough to willingly be my friend. But none of that mattered nor happened.  
  
For he'd been Sorted in Gryffindor, much to my heart's grief but not to mine...  
  
And the past six years we'd beat the living hell outta each other, we'd bloody ourselves to death, we'd curse and hex the other into next week, we'd insult and attack every and last single person in our entourages that could mean this tiny little bit to the other. And if I was anytime past slightly reasonable tonight, I'd realize we had wasted six years of our existence. We had thrown away six years for the sole pleasure of getting under each other's skin and pushing our buttons...  
  
Still, seeing as I was nowhere logical right now, my only instinct was to say 'Bugger off!' to that bit of philosophical shite I'd just experienced. And you're damn right I did exactly that. To hell with it, to hell with everything else! Long live the eternal rivalry that will, seemingly, always reign between the Hogwarts Houses of Slytherin and Gryffindor. We did a good job representing the enmity between both of them. But we knew it was downright personal, not about some little House competition. We were everything we loated, we were everything we wanted to be, we had everything we wanted to have. And of thus were born every single one of our constant fights...  
  
But right now, I was bloody sure of something: I was not going down, he'd be.  
  
"I really don't think I'd like to have you kiss me, hero. You wouldn't know a kiss if it bit you in the arse, "I scoffed at him.  
  
"Oh, I really think I would..."he answered, a mysterious air about him. "Wanna bet, Malfoy?"  
  
"I would've never guessed you played for the other team, Potter, "I sneered again.  
  
"Well, you see, love, why would I limit myself to only birds when there is such a whole wide world before me just wanting me in every way one could ever imagine possible? "he said seriously, not blinking once. "And I can only guess you think of things in the same way. Flirt, use, discard."  
  
Hey, that's my motto, you filthy thief!  
  
"Quite a reputation you've got there, if I may. You're the one everybody talks about...even up there, in our, most humble, Gryffindor towers, " he said, smirking.  
  
"Do you include yourself, Potter? "I whispered to his ear.  
  
"You bet your Pureblood arse, "he growled back. "I've even got a picture of you just beside my bed. And I look at it everynight just before I go to sleep, "he said, winking at me.  
  
Gah! If only he could feel the heat pooling in my body...lower body, that is...  
  
"Care to show me what you've got ?"  
  
He grinned at me and his hand disappeared under the table to land on my knee, creeping impishly to nether regions I'd rather not have it touch. But it was ecstasy, utter rapture. It felt like my usually chilly skin was set on scorching fire the second his bloody hand landed on my thigh; a cool palm when I would have expected a warm one, a confident touch when I would have expected a shy one, a slow tempo when I would've wanted a quick and be- done-with-it one. I just wanted to die right there with his hand on my thigh...just because it made me feel good.  
  
But mostly because it made me feel.  
  
"I can clearly see what you've got yourself, Draco, "he purred seductively in my ear.  
  
The little bugger began a thorough exploration of my thigh, giving it a northern edge, but at an excruciatingly slow pace. His fingers were feathers on my thigh, teasing, taunting, torturing. I really began to think I was going to die there if he didn't come to an end and do something already. And then, I thought I had died already when he reached destination. It felt so good and all he'd done was to give it a small squeeze, a very small and brief squeeze, if I might add.  
  
My mind whirled about when his palm made contact with my groin. I sensed a startled jolt down there and judging by the smirk curling his lips, he'd felt it too. My thoughts were fuzzy. I had a many thoughts within only my head; it'd seemed the thoughts of others of earlier had returned. Their feelings enveloped, swathing me in an imaginary bubble, in a thick sphere of cotton. My senses were ablaze, sharpened, aware. But I wasn't aware of anything else in the Grand Hall anymore...  
  
It was heaven, it was bliss and the next thing I knew was that everything had become black.  
  
--------------------  
  
I knew I must have had collapsed. The buzz was back, the thoughts, the voices, the incessant noise in my head was back. But this time, it was painful and the pain was too hard to handle. The pain...I suddenly stood up, swatting Potter's hand off my thigh and groin and quickly exited the Great Hall, ignoring the odd looks I received and never once glancing back to Wonder Boy. The pain reappeared. It just bloody ached. I felt like on the verge of dying. Hell, I think I really wanted to die back there.  
  
I had to get myself immediately to the dungeons, to my room, to my bed but mostly the safety and peace of soul. But, yes, a bed, that sounded like it was a nice thought. Maybe I could smother myself under the pillows. Or I could drown myself in the shower. Or I could cast a spell and have it backfire on the mirror just to see my face when it would hit me. So many great ideas came to my thinking, but I seemed to have so little time left.  
  
I can't remember clearly what events happened next, how they happened and even if they really did happen. I can remember the touch of the wall, the bricks, the roughness. I think I scorched my fingers hard too. I remember the dim lights of the candles on the walls, the shadows dancing around on the paintings, the characters snoring loudly and lifting their hats to me, faring me a very Merry Christmas, not noticing how bad I felt, how awful I looked., how ungraceful I strutted about.  
  
I remember reaching the stone door between the portraits of the sleeping swan maiden and of the wooing knight, I remember mumbling out the password to the door... I remember the steel-grip I had on the walls, to the curtains to get through the Slytherin Common Room. I remember faintly the crackling and the warmth of the fire, the poor light it provided to the room. The shadows of logs, curtains, couches and statues danced and twirled about me, sometimes diving down on me, mocking me, taunting me, threatening me. I nearly had the strength to head to the boys' dormitories.  
  
The pain still oh-so-present was unbearable, the images just kept flashing through my mind, the feelings kept compressing me as if they wanted to pour me into a tight mould. It made me dizzy and the long, sharp cry still remained. I wanted it to stop. At any costs. I even genuinely considered killing myself. I was so desperate, I was so pathetic, I wanted to laugh at myself. I felt again how I felt on those times Father told me how upset he was with me, with my failures, with my disappointing grades.  
  
Father never did hit me, he never did use one of the Unforgivables and he never did use the Dark Arts on me though I knew he easily could. He never needed to. He knew it and I knew it too. No slaps, no hits, no kicks, no punches, no hexes, no curses. Just expressing his displeasure through that cold, expressionless voice could break me. He knew it, he saw it. But it didn't matter. He didn't feel anything. He still can't. He never will. Heartless. I wonder why she did marry him. I wonder why they did conceive me.  
  
I had crumpled down on my bed, tears burning my cheeks, eyes shut, fists clenched. I began to promise myself things I would never even think about before. If only I'd survive this, I'd be a better person. I'd be Muggle- friendly, I'd be Mudblood-friendly, I'd be Dumbledore-friendly and I'd even be Golden Trio-friendly. I would have given anything to stop it. I was even willing to be Pansy-more-than-friendly and even Blaise-more-than-friendly. I'd drop the snobbish act, I'd drop the false air of pride.  
  
I'd drop the Malfoy act. I'd still be proud of the name because one bad egg didn't mean the rest were bad too. I'd still be honoured to be of the Malfoy line. But I'd stop being snooty, I'd stop rubbing it into others' faces, I'd stop taunting Weasel...Weasley about being poor, I'd stop insulting Granger about begin a Mud...Muggle-Born, I'd even stop fighting with Potter for every other little thing. Hell, I'd be more than willing to be Potter-more-than-friendly.  
  
_Potter_...  
  
I just wanted to die already. Merlin, Salazar or anybody up there high and mighty, let it be the end, let it be all over now. I just wanted it to put a stop to it right there. The pain was agonizing, dreadful, horrible...words can't even to begin to describe it. All my body was sore. My mind seemed ready to explode any minute now. I could sense all the blood rushing through my brain with a loud throbbing. I felt my heart thump loudly. I even felt my bones and skin ache.  
  
All that was left was a hair-ache, which, fortunately, I doubted of existing, lest of ensuing.  
  
-------------  
  
AN: Alright, you can slap me for making Draco an Empath But the way I see it, it's all good because this way, he'll be able to help a certain tea_Pot_ out...hehehe. I'm not telling more! Cheers! 


	6. I'm Not Light

Notes: Random rambling galore! Ye be warned. If you're feeling confused it's really alright because it'll all be explained laaater. :P Thanks for the reviews, my pretties!  
  
Anyways, may I present to you number 16!  
  
Chapter six 'I'm not Light'  
  
After...  
  
After I'd finally entered my room, I-I...I don't remember. It'd always been this way: every time I'd try to recall this peculiar evening, at this particular moment, I couldn't. I just couldn't. Well, I could but only a little bit. If I'd said earlier I could only replace sounds and touches and scattered thoughts, it really was nothing compared to what would ensue. It's even more blurry, even more uncertain. I can remember only bits and parts, of feelings, of sounds. I don't remember clearly. At all.  
  
What will follow, one might think that it's pretty damn clear and that I'm a bloody liar but I'm not, what will follow is more of how I imagined it to be, to have unfold more than how it actually occurred. Hence my very fertile imagination. I always said I wanted to be a writer or to be a painter or a songwriter and even a singer...yeah, a singer. I'd make a good singer, crap background, vain and attention-aholic and looks to die for, modesty withheld...Yeah, I always said I'd be a wicked lead singer in a rock band. If only...  
  
But that's another memory, another door and it'll have to take a rain check, I'm afraid.  
  
Yes, as I was saying, the distinct memories I have from this odd night are very scarce, most are brief, imprecise, foggy. He always says that I've locked it away, far, far away in my mind so I can't relive it. I always pinned him as daft as hell but honestly, I think he deserved some credit here; I truly don't ever want to relive that. Hell, nobody deserves that. Nobody. Not even your greatest enemy or rival and not even the greatest criminal or murderer. It was simply inhuman. There were no other words.  
  
I didn't know what the hell it was, tough. What had happened, the pain, the voices, the sense of evil, how it had happened, at Christmas, at night, in a blur of feelings, of hate, of anger, why it had happened, happened to me, happened at all. I didn't know back there and I still don't. And for what it's worth, I probably ever won't know at all. Oh but he knows; I think he knew from the beginning he won't tell me. Shrugs it off with something along the lines of 'to protect you', 'to spare you' and my all-time favourite: 'because I love you'.  
  
It's not really what I want to hear but it shuts me up good. (Plus I get a kiss!)  
  
But, anyway, let's see...What had happened next? Ah, yes. I had just inelegantly collapsed to the floor, alright I was a true mess, my knees had become weak and had bucked under my weight. I remember how cold the floor had been against my flushed cheeks and sweaty forehead, I remember the loud, ugly sound my body had made when it'd landed on the ground. I remember the very thought I had in this instant: 'I still am conscious, someone up there really hates me'.  
  
Couldn't I just die in peace? I mean come on, I'm on the verge of an apocalypse in my head and I'm still kept conscious? Let a chap die in peace, no? Nope, not me, not Draco Malfoy. Well, of course not. Fate would bugger me to the very last second of my existence. It would haunt me, stalk me, follow me through every single drop of hell I would go through just because it would want to admire its masterpieces. Bloody hell. Couldn't they all just leave me be? No, of course not.  
  
I remember cursing at Father for leaving me here, at Mum for letting him do whichever he'd please, at Voldemort for keeping my father tight on a leash, at the world for coming up with more and more plans to ruin my already pretty ruined life, at everyone for not noticing something was wrong with me and lastly, at Potter for making me feel so shamefully good. I remember the loud sound of the blood in my brain accentuating even more at the mention of Potter. I felt I could actually pinpoint where and when it was pumped from the heart because it was so loud.  
  
I think that's about where I utterly lost it. After that precise moment, I hadn't a single coherent thought left in my mind. I was demented, I'd gone bonkers. Literally. And then, something odd had happened. Well, odder than before at the very least. I remember a long, high-pitched, strident, piercing cry through the night. I vaguely remember how I tried, in vain, to poorly cover my ears as the sound persisted, and even augmented if such thing was remotely possible, and how I finally came to realize, 'realize' used as a very large term here, realize that I was the one screeching like a bloody banshee.  
  
Ensuing, I felt powerful floods of free energy running through my entire body, so strong I was nearly convulsing. And they were so solid, they were almost tangible, I can still feel them, I could almost grip them with my feeble fingers. Those waves of raw power just rushed from my crumpled body to whirl frantically around, through the whole room. The drapes and curtains were ripped, the beds, the chairs and desks were pushed flush against the walls, the fire was blazing, its ashes in whirlwinds. The room was an entire mess.  
  
I remember exactly how I felt: scared out of my skin. I think back on it, I try and remember the inhuman fear I felt back there and I still get chills down my spine, sweat on my skin, cold in my heart. It was plain to see that I was afraid of myself. And yet, I don't think that, back there, I was rational enough to grasp the fact that I was the one releasing this magic power. It felt strange knowing that this invisible force was coming from me while thinking that the cries and chaos were coming from some other being.  
  
I could feel the flow of energy rising once more in me. I didn't want it to start again. I wanted it to stop but it wouldn't. I felt I was like a bloody waterfall, ceaselessly pouring out natural magic as they gush water. I could feel a battle going on inside my mind. An epic duel opposing good and evil, and oddly, an evil similar to the one I'd felt roaming in the halls. Light and Dark, good and evil but don't ask me where the Light and good combatants came from. I was anything but good, I was not Light, as it was common knowledge by now, Malfoy and all...  
  
Still, I do remember something, a funny feeling in the very back of my mind, one I could easily pay no heed to. But no matter how much I tried to dismiss it, it always came back, haunting, nagging, taunting and yet, so small, so faint, so translucent nonetheless. The feeling was one of something being out of place, not fitting right, not being where it belonged. I felt as if something wasn't mine, as if I'd borrowed or even stole something which wasn't rightfully mine to begin with. As if I was exploiting, taking advantage, tapping in another's powers, as if...  
  
I was growing frustrated and I couldn't even think about calming myself, I was out of my mind, almost literally. I was furious, I was in pain, I was incensed, I was infuriated. Rage, ache, anger, fury: I couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. And as I grew angrier and angrier, my shrieks grew louder and louder, as if in harmony with my mood, my state of mind. More bright waves of magic ravaged the room, hurling themselves at the walls, the ceiling, at the floor, at the windows. I didn't know what to do anymore, I was frustrated, I was desperate.  
  
And I remember how I finally stopped screeching inanely. I can't really recall on how I did it though, I just did. But I felt better, much. The pain had vanished, the memories had stopped flashing and spinning in front of my weary eyes, the clash had seemed to end, the evil, gone. The room had returned to its normal state of quietness; it still was in shambles but it was almost peaceful. I felt bad at seeing it in ruins, with the drapes ripped, the walls burnt, the windows shattered, the furniture upside down, the ashes smearing the floor and carpets: the room simply...chaotic.  
  
Yet I felt almost good. I felt relieved. I felt as if all worry had washed over me. I felt as if a new rain had cleaned my pain, my qualms, my troubles. I felt as if someone had taken the heavy burden I was bearing off my fatigued shoulders and body. It was all over now. It was the calm after the storm. I felt as if the good had won after all but Salazar only knew how in the world... But most of all, I didn't feel grateful, released, painless, safe, happy...No, most of all, I felt exhausted out of my body.  
  
I thought I had been granted my wish at last. I though they had showed me pity, I thought they had shown mercy. I thought I had died, finally. I thought I was put out of my misery, that this had been the coup de grâce. I thought I would, after all, be granted this yearning, so often considered a curse and so seldom a blessing, some called Death and some the Great Oblivion. Either way or name, or any other for that matter, it meant the same thing: no pain, no sorrows, no cold, no heat, no rain...naught.  
  
I saw that there was light just near the slit and half-open dorm door. And I actually managed to smile a little. I was relieved. I was delighted. The glow was so pretty, so soft on my eyes, so pleasant to my heart and soul, still recovering from the battles they had endured. It held a faint warmth and it enveloped my whole body with almost, because I'd just about swear they were real, imaginary silver wings so I felt safe and protected from any harm that may had come. I felt it caressed my soul and eased my fears.  
  
I closed my eyes; this was it.  
  
Then, suddenly, as if on cue or even as if it had been uncaged, a single ray of silver light flew right through the door in shambles, creating a perfect round hole in it as it was quickly followed by a whole sun of other beams showing the poor door mercy at last. The dorm was illuminated, it lifted my soul a bit. The gleaming wreath soared the room from side to side where they twirled, heading toward the ceiling to disappear almost instantly as they touched the tapestry. The room was dark and gloomy again and my heart fell.  
  
I remember two small, bright dots shining in the shadows. A single pair of sparkling emerald pools. I could make out that this was were the silver light was coming form but there was only a faint radiance about whatever it was left. My eyes rolled back joining my head as my eyelids closed, almost by their own will, almost despondent. It wasn't going to end. I wasn't going to see the clouds above. I was staying here to be miserable...Or I was given a one-way only trip straight to Hell. I couldn't tell which was the worse.  
  
I remember hearing curses, muttered obscenities by one hell of an angry voice...or was it really anger? I didn't really knew or care for that matter, you know. It was something about a mess, a dorm in ruins and something about me, I think. Well, it had to be me, there weren't any other poor souls down here so I guess it had to be about me...And then, I heard a gasp, a strangled one you get stuck in your throat and this one was never was let out.  
  
At this, the pale aura quavered.  
  
I heard the gasp and I wanted to laugh my arse off. I wanted to get up and laugh in whoever's or whatever's face it was standing just there in front of me. Because, after all, you have to agree with me that this was actually amusing, perhaps the event of the year. I, Draco Malfoy, was crumpled in a very sorry bundle, on the floor no less, eyes red and puffy, hair and clothes a mess, on the verge of new tears, old ones dry on my cheeks, not even having the floor to sit up properly, in the middle of a room that had obviously been viciously ravaged and ripped apart and demolished.  
  
But it was just too damned dark. I was lost in a sea of fog, of blur. I couldn't see anymore, I felt the darkness shrouding me, taking me away where I wouldn't open my eyes anymore, where my heart wouldn't beat anymore. I was just so damn lost. I lost the little of coherent thoughts I had left. Everything was just revolving around in circles. It made me tipsy, dizzy. It made me sick. I had a lump in my throat, I couldn't breathe anymore. But, at least, the pain was gone. So were any of the earlier voices and foreign thoughts.  
  
-----  
  
I heard robes rustling around, I heard curses again. And then, nothing. I waited but it never came. Not a single sound, not a single sight, not a single feeling. I was afraid to open my eyes again. Afraid that I'd see those horrible memories again. Afraid that I'd see those awful images. Afraid that I wouldn't be able to see again. And half-afraid, half-relieved that I would be dead as a rock.  
  
I was scared, I was cold, I was lonely. No, I wasn't lonely. Strangely, I could feel a presence beside me, a warm, comforting presence through the fearful shadows, through the deceitful obscurity. I would had almost sworn it had something with the silver light of earlier...or was it only a dream? And I felt a warm hand against my skin. I know I should've pushed whomever it was away but it felt so good, felt so right.  
  
And then it happened. Dare I say again? But something in me broke. And there I thought nothing was left to break. Floods inundated my face and the warm shoulder. It's ironic how in about a good ten years, Draco Malfoy had never cried again but there he was, almost crying himself to death in front of a nobody, in front of someone he didn't even knew. Perhaps it was better that way, Malfoys' pride wouldn't be soiled, I thought with a snort. Yeah, right.  
  
I felt a soft hand stroking my hair, tucking strands behind my ears. I felt a soft hand caress my cheeks, wipe away all of my tears. I felt strong arms encircling me, strong arms holding me tightly in a tender embrace, rocking gently back and forth. I felt silk lips at my ear, quite voice humming, shushing me, lulling me into sleep. They felt, the hands, the arms, the lips, like feathers and wings and for an instant, I wondered if this was a magical creature rather than a human being.  
  
Still, for one of the first time in my life, I felt happy. I felt relieved but in a different way. Not as if I knew this was the only answer but really, really relieved. Even if I had to go through hell to get it. And I felt like I belonged somewhere, in this person's, creature's or whatever's arms, even if I hadn't the foggiest about who or what it was. I figured I just didn't care. It simply fit together. Everything fitted.  
  
"Shh, it's gonna be alright, it's gonna be alright. I'll take care of you, I promise you, Draco Malfoy."  
  
So it would seem heaven actually followed hell. 


	7. You Were Made to Hate Me

**Notes: **I like Snape, he's fun.

**Responses to reviews:** Gosh, I'm sorry I haven't been answering you bunch of reviewers. And then yesterday or so, I woke up and thought 'let's answer back, woohoo!'. So I know it's gonna be a little odd to answer reviews old of 6 months from the first chapters or so but hey, better late than never...I think.

_(Previous chapters)_

CuriousDreamWeaver: Yay, you were my first reviewer on this one. And you always did make me smile with your reviews. You're a cool one! M'glad you liked them...Gosh you reviewed almost all of them! I'll give you a cookie, gah make that a dozen

JackSparrowsLass: Gosh, I'm so honoured of so much praise I'm almost blushing here I hope you're still reading this even though my lack of updating :S

Star and Pixie: Here, it took me a while but there's more. Hope you like them.

driven to insanity: Draco _is_ going crazy, mate. But I guess you'll understand why later...hinthint

My Slytherin Mind: I'm glad you liked it. Keep reading, I'll keep 'em coming!

ScarletSerpent: He's in character? Oh good! I wasn't sure how I was doing on this side; m'glad you think I did a good job.

beth: Thanks so much...but I have to say: just you wait if you thought that was intense!

Beloved: Confused? Good! So am I...Uhoh, that's not good, is it? Having the author confused, that r_eally_ can't be that good...:S But thanks anyways!

ct: Slash? Yeah, I'm working on it. I ain't working fast but I'm working on it. I tried something slashy earlier but it kinda turned vulgar. Wonder where it's gone? Down the garbage! Oh! By the way, I'm happy you enjoy it.

Siren of Darkness: Thank you. And split personality? Nah but you're close though, real close. And Malfoy? There's a lot going on with this cute boy too. Still, ain't spoiling it :P

Sand3: I like you, I like a lot. And I do do some self-editing but not as much as I'd want to...or as it would need to. Missed words? Homonyms? Extra words? Gosh :S But at least, you like it a bit! And you compared me to Rowling herself : Thank you, thank you, thank you!

_(Chapter seven)_

CuriousDreamWeaver: Hey you're back and I still love you! And yes, Sev's pretty much down Despair Lane. He's always so composed, so calm and I wanted to write him some other way. And somehow, I still think I kept him in character. I mean I can totally see him like this, though given a proper situation and I thought this was pretty much a proper situation for him to lose his self-control, innit?

Sand3: I know what you mean. I was going for something different with Harry but it didn't turn out that great, did it? I guess I was heading for a more mature, more calm Harry because I really can't stand the angry, childish Harry and I realized it was turning out like this. And I guess the Albus didn't help many too. I'm glad you spoke up because it was really bugging me too. Oh well. Thanks again for your reviews!

**Chapter seven, You Were Made to Hate Me.**

A voice so soft, so pure it could sing to the angels above...if it didn't belong itself to an angel. I knew that flowing voice from somewhere, I was sure of it. It was so familiar and yet, I felt I'd never heard it as gentle as it was now. My eyes wouldn't open my sight on the stranger, they'd seal shut tighter and tighter as I tried to blink them open. Alas!

"They're coming, I hear them."

It was definitely a masculine voice.

"I won't let them hurt you."

Shrugging, I shook my head as best as I could manage and nuzzled even more in his neck. Just thinking about thinking about all the boys who could be here holding me right now made my head spin around hectically so I might as well make myself comfortable...And If I'd been anywhere near conscious, I would've never even thought of doing so but right there, I didn't give a damn and carried it out dreadfully unashamed. Don't you dare start on me with the Malfoy name!

"I'll watch over you, I promise."

He promised, he promised again. He spoke to me in such confident words, with a firm enough tone to let me know he was talking serious business yet still managing to keep his voice kind and soothing. And it killed me. I thought I would but I just couldn't let go of who this enigmatic boy was. It was almost literally eating me by the inside! I had to think, I had to know who he was, I had to know who was seeing me in this meagre state, I had to find out. I just had to.

Facts, facts? Facts! Alright, he was a boy...He had a masculine voice.

Wait. Emerald green, something was emerald green. Not a lawn green, not a bottle green, not a pine green, really an emerald green. There'd been two orbs, a pair. Eyes, could they be? Who had green eyes? That green of eyes? There was a bunch of kids with green eyes but that green? An Aveda Kedavra green? Almost as if they'd seen the Killing Curse fly right by them...As if they'd survived it...As if they were survivors...

Or worse, The Survivor...!

No. Don't tell me. Don't fucking tell me. Bloody hell. Goddammit! Not him. Anybody would have been better but him up to the point I'd rather have that Half-Breed, oversized, clumsy teacher find me instead. And to think, I actually thought I liked being there, held by him, comforted by him. I actually thought I had enjoyed it. I actually...felt protected. I wanted to laugh myself crazy. Merlin, I'd lost it bad, real bad.

There were a pair of footsteps coming angrily towards us with robes flowing. And another set of footsteps, quick, dry ones pursuing the firsts. It sounded like heels? Must be a woman then. She sighed deeply. Was she relieved? Afraid? I could almost hear the man seethe and feel the steam coming out form his ears. I had the feeling she was holding him off from whatever.

It made me kinda edgy all these bad vibes. I really wanted out of this room. It was becoming too crowded for my taste. But somehow, the arms around my body managed to soothe and calm me. Against my will, I sighed contently and snuggled closer to him, of all people! My mind was repulsed but my body had a idea of its own and it didn't seem it was inclined to get away from...him. Ugh.

"Mr Potter, please, allow us to bring Mr Malfoy to the infirmary. You can come along, if you wish, but I'm afraid he truly needs professional help, "McGonagall told him gently.

Potter didn't seem disposed to let go of me, he just kept repeating he wouldn't let them hurt me.

"Harry, I know how you I feel and for his sake, let us take him to the Hospital Wing."

"You'll hurt him."

"We just want to help him, don't we, Severus?"

Snape just kinda...growled?

"Let us take him, "she said at last with a certain finality.

"Alright, Professor, "he sighed at last as he made for us to get up.

"Go up ahead, we'll catch up."

"Of course, "he nodded against me. "Can you stand? "he whispered to my ear.

I faintly mumbled my agreement against his shoulder as he slowly got up, bringing me with him. He had his hands on my hips and his lips on my neck and nothing I had ever felt before felt this right. Stepping back, he took my hands and gently led me towards the door. I took small, uneasy steps under his watchful eye. I was exhausted, I feared I wouldn't be able to reach the Hospital Wing. It seemed so faaar...

"Severus, please go get the Headmaster and meet us in the infirmary, "McGonagall said to Snape.

I was sensing a lot a bad vibes from him and it made me quaver a bit. To which Potter gracefully sprang up to prevent me from falling and held me tighter.

"Look at what he did! That...Potter! He did this to him. He tried to kill him, he tried to kill Draco, "he exploded furiously in short, icy words.

"Oh, come off if, Severus. Why would Potter try to kill only to take care of him after?"

"I know him! I know them all, them Potters, "he spat. "He's feeling guilty now."

"Come on, Draco, "Potter beckoned me gently, as if he was oblivious to the row.

"You don't know anything, Severus. Go get the Headmaster, now, "she repeated dryly.

"It is you who don't know him and his kind. You're blind, Minerva, you don't want to see him for anything other than the Boy Who Lived. He's got you wrapped all around his little finger, all of this wretched school!"

"Severus Snape! "she snapped back. "This will be enough. Potter?"

"Of course, Professor."

"Now, Severus, will you behave? Fetch the Headmaster at once...for Malfoy's sake."

Ha, this ought to get to him.

"Fine, but he'll pay for this, Minerva. You hear me, Potter? You'll pay for this!"he shouted.

Still, I barely registered their quarrel. It was so faraway, so forlorn. His embrace took all of my attention to him alone, I wouldn't have had it any other way...I think. I felt good and I didn't want him to go away, even if this was indeed Harry Bloody Potter. I didn't care. Well, i think I just wasn't realizing it anymore...I just wanted to stay this way forever. But he had to take me safe and sound to the infirmary, ever the noble Gryffindor.

Gently, as if afraid that I'd break, he slowly took his arms from around me. He wasn't even holding my hands anymore. I felt cold with his warmth gone. I shivered. I could almost hear him frown before he mumbled the Attraction charm (or did he even?) and in the blink of an eye, a blanket was covering my shoulders. I nodded as clearly as possible and tried to smile at him. But I just couldn't.

I felt his hands grasp mine and holding them tightly in his, as if afraid I'd vanish. Oh no. Even if I wanted to, which I didn't, I couldn't have gone away. I was glued to him. Even if this was Harry Potter we were talking about. He lifted me up from my knees. They quivered again at bit but I stood still. When he took a step forward, or backward as he was leading me, I didn't follow. My feet were well anchored in the ground. I didn't move, I just couldn't.

I felt him tense through his hand, he gripped a little tighter. I heard him curse again. I flinched. He cursed again. I thought he was angry at me, I thought I made him mad because I didn't follow him. When he saw me cringe, he released the tension a bit. I felt him soften as he moved to rub my back and shoulders. To tell me it wasn't my fault, to tell me he wasn't mad at me.

He mumbled another charm and I suddenly felt light as air. I remember looking down my feet. I remember gasping. I was bloody floating, he made me bloody levitate, that wanker. Buuut as long as he didn't drop me dead on the floor, I guessed it would be alright. Yeah, it would have to. I remember a faint smile in the moonlight still with two orbs almost smiling at me.

If eyes could only smile, they'd have.

And before I knew it, I was awaking in a comfy bed, sore everywhere. But curiously enough, I felt good. Waking up from a well-deserved, well-used, long, dreamless rest. I must've been given a Dreamless Draught. It had done me well at least. I stretched out lazily, sat up in the bed and looked around. Bright coloured walls darkened by the night, flowers pots everywhere, a warm, inviting ambiance. Hospital Wing. Most certainly.

But how the hell did I end up here? I couldn't remember just exactly how although I could remember that pathetic, Christmas diner attempt but then nothing. I was pulled out of my thoughts as a dispute began in another room nearby. Pomfrey, McGonagall, Snape, Dumbledore and a voice I couldn't quite replace. Snape was out of control, the man usually so composed, so cool had completely lost it.

"Do you know what happened, Mr Potter? "Pomfrey said.

"What do you think happened!? I'm sure he did it! He hexed Draco! He was trying to kill him, plain and simple."

"Severus, we are all aware of the rivalry between those two but for Harry to attempt murder? Don't you think you're taking this a bit too far? "Dumbledore tried to reason with him.

"Of course, he's the Boy Who Lived! "he snapped back.

"Don't you think you are a bit overreacting, Severus?"

"No, Albus, you shan't let this pass! This is the last straw."

"Now, now, Severus, calm down, please let Mr Potter tell us his side of the story, "Albus said quietly but firmly.

A soft snort came after that. Oh so that was the final person.

"Thank you, Albus."

Whoa! First name basis?

"During diner, Malfoy fainted for no apparent reason and when I tried to question him as to why and how he was feeling, he rebuffed me so I dropped the matter. Later that evening, I thought he was looking a bit pale and I asked him again if he was feeling well..."

"This is rich! As we all know you and Draco are the greatest of friends..."

"Severus. Will you please, I repeat, give the poor boy a chance to explain!"Dumbledore said rising his voice a bit. "Go on, Harry "he said more softly.

"And I asked him if he was alright and he said to, leave him alone. He stood up and he walked out in a rush. I pondered a bit on if I should follow him or not. Finally I got up and trailed after him but he got too fast to the entrance. Of course, I didn't know the password, thus I couldn't enter the Common Room..."

"Then how did you bloody get past the statues? "Snape sneered.

"For the last time, Severus! I will need to ask you at once to leave the room."

"Fine, Albus. I'll behave, "Snape said, his voice a low growl.

"I told myself I couldn't leave like this..."

Snape snorted loudly as he resumed his furious pacing.

"...yet I had no idea how to access the dorms. Defeated, I'd started heading back to the Great Hall but, then, something caught my attention. It was faint, very weak but at the same time, there was no doubt about. And I could tell it wasn't something material, something with a substance. I felt...I just felt. It was odd; I can't really describe it though.

"Perhaps it could be referred to as an instinct, as if someone was pulling the strings from above...But I felt adamant on it, I knew I needed to trust myself on this. And this...I somehow...I just knew...It just opened."

"Do you think us as such fools we would believe this ridiculous tale? "Snape hissed.

"No, sir, not at all. It is simply hard for me to try to explain something I don't quite understand myself. I know it seems rather farfetched but it just is. I'm sorry I couldn't say more but I just don't know, I just don't know..."

"Foolish boy."

"I remember I felt there was no way I could help him if I didn't get in. I remember feeling frustrated, defeated but also worried of his fate. And almost literally, the next thing I knew I was holding him in my arms as he was clutching to me as if it was a matter of life or death. I did feel a bit different though. However, different on which base I can't tell you for I do not know myself."

"You mean to tell us it was as if you were being possessed by some unknown power guiding you in though you don't remember any of it?"

"Well...I, you see...Yes."

"The boy is not on trial here, Severus."

"Don't you see he's making this along? And I can't say his creative skills are impressing me so far, "Snape sneered. "As for the boy being on an actual trial, we'll see about that, Minerva."

"Is that a threat, Severus Snape? "she asked as if she was scolding a little boy.

Ouch.

"If the two of you are quite finished, perhaps Harry could conclude his account?"

"As I entered the Common Room, I felt something rise in me, wrap around me like a veil. But it wasn't something dark, not something Evil. It didn't feel as if it was trying to suffocate me. No, instead it felt Light and pure. It felt Good. And somehow the room didn't feel quite as cold and daunting as it was. It was as if my aura chased harm and gloom away..."

"Of course it was. You're Harry Potter."

Somehow, I didn't think it was a compliment.

"...I made my way to the dorms and that's about when I heard loud shouts and high-pitched cries. At first, I thought there was a big fight; it sounded as if there was a load of people in there but then again, I was fairly sure there wasn't. There were thuds and thumps and it seemed a lot of furniture was being thrown around against the walls. I reckon I even heard broken windows in there.

"Again, I know for certain you won't believe me, Professor Snape, but it happened once more. Unfortunately, I didn't have my wand with me and the door was locked and magically sealed; clearly, I couldn't get in. Then, it felt as if a great flood of free energy flowed through me. Next thing I knew the door was breached enough to let me pass.

"That's when I saw him. Curled in a ball, arms wrapped around his knees, head bowed down, shoulders trembling from sobs, he looked miserable. Then I took a look around: the room was in shambles. It held a sad air about it. But Malfoy, he just looked utterly miserable. And I know he wouldn't like it but, I felt pity for him...I wanted to help him."

Why?

"...yet more than anything else, I identified myself with him, "he finished in a quiet voice.

But you hate me.

"Why wouldn't finish him off, Potter? You hate him, don't you?"

"Hatred is such a vague term, sir. I hate pickles, I hate Divination class, I hate the Dursleys and I hate Voldemort...Which kind of hate is which? What kind of hate is truly hate? What do you genuinely hate?"

Another snort, graciously offered by Snape.

"Oh, alright, I won't deny you that, at some point, I'd have Malfoy on my hate list in a heartbeat but...not anymore. You possibly won't believe I've changed too but I have. And I truly can't say I hate Malfoy."

"Is that so, Potter?"

"It is. I don't hate him. And perhaps I never did, "he added mostly for himself, I presumed. "You don't have to trust me on this and honestly, I don't care about what you think. I just want to get this war over and done and not have anything to do with it ever again."

I want this over too.

"Relation?"

"No matter what you say, I don't believe Malfoy has what it takes to become a Death Eater. I don't believe he sincerely wants to become one."

"Why such high faith in him, Harry? "Dumbledore asked him.

"Because he's just like me, "he answered in a dull, dead voice. "Now, if you'll excuse me?"

How are we alike...?

"But you hate him! "Snape pleaded.

I could tell he was getting desperate. He couldn't understand, he wouldn't. I'm not even sure I really understood what was going on there. Potter saying he was possessed, Potter saying he didn't hate me anymore, Potter saying he pitied me, Potter saying he didn't believe I would become Voldemort's minion, Potter saying he didn't hate me anymore, Potter saying he had changed, Potter saying he hated pickles, Potter saying he didn't hate me anymore, Potter saying we were alike, Potter saying he didn't hate me anymore...

"I'll answer you this, Professor, though I know you'll probably mock me. I truly believe that hating someone, even as much as you think I hate Malfoy, doesn't give you the right to take away that person's life. Not even if he deserves it or if you owe him. And hitting someone who's already down and defeated makes you as bad as the one who first did this...

"Because even if you can doesn't give you the right to. Power is a privilege and must be used wisely. I know I hold that power, I do, and I know I could crush Malfoy even before he could even raise his wand at me but it still doesn't give me the right to hurt him. Do you understand me, sir?"

But you hate me.

"Well said, Mr Potter, "McGonagall praised him warmly.

"Truly well said, Harry, "the Headmaster agreed.

"But you hate him!"

"Once again, Professor, I do not hate him. Though I can assure you, for your heart's happiness, that I certainly do not hold a great liking for him."

You said you didn't hate me anymore.

"But you helped him!"

Yes, you helped me.

"This evening has been rather eventful, not to mention quite tiresome, so if you could excuse me, I'd like to rest a bit, Professors, Headmaster."

Wanker.

"You hate him!"

"Of course, Harry. I'm sorry we've kept you this long. We'll leave you now."

"Thank you."

"But you hate him!"

"Yes, I reckon you've already established that, Severus, "she said patronizingly.

"Good night then, and merry Christmas to you Harry."

"Thank you, Albus. Merry Christmas to you too, "he said with a phoney yawn..

"Come now, Severus. You've already exhausted the poor boy, no need to smother him with questions , "Dumbledore chuckled as he led Snape and McGonagall out of the infirmary.

"Oh and Harry?"

"Yes?"

"You may go see Mr Malfoy for a while if you wish. I'll keep Poppy away, "he said, amused.

"Thank you, Headmaster. I won't be long."


	8. Do We Ever Forget?

**Notes**: Ugh. No comments whatsoever on the lateness of this chapter. I know this is a poor thing to say but...at least, I haven't forgotten about this story. I almost want to say nothing else. I think I won't...

_Replies:_

C.Night > Well, I'm glad you think so. But to make matters worse, I've done it again. Ah, but this time I do have a good, good, good reason as to why I did it...yet again. I hope you'll like this one. Thank you for your support!

_**Chapter eight, 'Do we Ever Forget?'**_

The next thing I heard was Potter thanking the barmy old fool for whatevers thing he had done for him. I couldn't hear very well, it was as if it was a goddamn secret all of a sudden. But something wasn't right. He wasn't even leaving the Infirmary. Nope, not at all. Instead, he was heading straight toward my bed. Close your eyes. Pretend to be asleep, pretend to be asleep. Steady your breathing, kep your cool. Maybe he'll go away then.

But, of course, I had no such luck. as I heard his footsteps stop near my bed, as I felt him near me. I couldn't hear his breathing, he didn't make any noise but I could feel his mere presence. And I couldn't just feel any presence. I felt his. It was creepy. My heart pounded frantically in my chest for Merlin only knew why. But this was bloody Potter we were talking about. Why would I care ?

"I'm glad you're still asleep, Draco. I wouldn't have wished for you to hear the row between Snape and I. It wasn't exactly pretty, you see, "he said to me, chuckling lightly.

Why should I care? Because he does? Because he saved my life? Poppycock. I was doing just fine on my own before he had shown up. I was doing just great. I didn't ask for his help, God help me. I never asked anything of him except his friendship which he refused anyway. And for all I cared, he could shove his bleeding help and friendship there.

You don't have to tell that it's a lie. Believe me, I knew it...

I felt him take my hand carefully in his again and press it. I really wish he'd stop touching me because I nearly gave myself away as when I tried to pull away. Instead, I sighed lightly. He didn't say anything. He must've not notice. Too daft, I presume. Always had been.His thumb began to brush against my hand in such a tender manner. It was almost a lover's touch.

"I guess you lost it pretty bad there, huh? "he sighed as if wondering if he should press the matter further. "Well, whatever it was, you scared me there. You really scared me. I was afraid you were..."

Almost. And I felt the urge to pull away again. I wish it was of disgust but somewhere in my heart, I knew it wasn't. I felt a cold breeze spinning around the room. The strange thing was that none of the windows were open...I felt him gasp. He squeezed my hand harder, up to where I winced. I felt something change in him. I couldn't say what though.

"Dead."

His tone was harsher, colder. Idly, I thought that it wasn't Potter anymore.

"At least, here, it's comfy. Always did like the Hospital Wing myself. Spent quite a few times here. And, funny thing is, most of the times, it was because of you, dear Draco... "

I cringed a bit at the endearment as well as when he cupped my cheek. Well, agreed, I was bloody shocked too. He had called me dear but it hadn't felt soft, caring. It hadn't felt felt warm at all. It almost felt as an insult. He had touched my face but it hadn't felt good. It had made my skin crawl. But whenever we fought, it never had felt this repulsing.

"...were proud when you sent me here. When you ever got the chance to wound Perfect Potty, or Scarhead, or Saint Potter, or Golden Boy, or the Boy-Who-Lived-Too-Long-For-His-Own-Bloody-Good, but the list goes on forever...But there were also Hero and Champion too. Those're your special ones...Wouldn't ever thought I'd know of this perhaps? Or had you wished of my hearing them?

"Yes, yes, I would presume. Your goal, after all, has been all along to hurt me. To get back at me for what I did to you. I'm surprised you still hold a grudge old of five years. 'Poor Malfoy, too weak to get Potter to be his friend, poor Malfoy still too much of a weakling to beat Potter' Yes, I know all about it. It's amazing what you get to hear when you're...invisible.

"Such wonder, I'll say. Not to be seen by anyone, hearing such things you would never dream of, hearing confessions, secrets...I wonder. Indeed things are heard by gossip and rumours too. But that is so plain. Invisibility is so much more fun...Similar to destroying an entire dormitory. Such power you hold in your hands. Though, I must wonder, it must have quite an incentive you had there..."

His voice had changed, it had dropped down a couple of degrees, becoming enigmatic, mysterious, somber. I had this nagging feeling that this, him, it wasn't Harry Potter anymore. I couldn't have said who this was though. It scared me to some point. I didn't like where this was going, where I wasn't in control of the situation. The room became cold, almost deprived of its kindness. He became cold. Harry Potter was no more.

"To trigger such power...But then again, this could be your death. Relying on emotions, on unpredictable feelings, rather a weakness you got there. Especially when you have such conflicting feelings held up in your chest. Emotions you don't understand, you don't want, you don't think decent, appropriate. Emotions that involve love, lust, care...

"Getting all fired up, losing your cool, forgetting your name, your place, your facade...I always wondered. It must've taken long to finally master that mask, that impenetrable, cool mask you've always got on. It must've been pretty bad. Well, I should know...As I did invade your mind, implant those images..."

What the hell...?

"Although, I should warn you. Do not get near him. Do no get your feelings involved. Forgot about what you're going through. Forget his touch, his hands, his eyes, his beautiful eyes that can look deep into your soul. Forget about it all. Because, you know, showing weaknesses to your nemesis is never an option. Do try to remember that, Draco. He will have to kill you eventually...

"Well, it'd be either him or me. It would most likely come down to your choice in the end, Draco. Not that it would matter. Dead at my hand or by his, you'll never see the light again. However. You can still change your mind. I have a great sense of forgiveness. At great price but still. Make your father proud. Though I never did like my father myself..."

He...didn't?

"I wish for you to change your mind and join me. We would be great together. I would love you as I can love. Yet either way, you will have to bow down, Draco. Willingly or not, painfully or not. Remember. That was but a mere taste of what you will suffer if you still refuse...Well, farewell, Draco Malfoy. "

There was another stream flowing in the room almost as if it was spring. Clearing all the snow, the cold, the bitterness changing them with sun, flowers, warmth and birds. I felt him grip harder even on my hand. I heard him gasp as if something was ejected from his very body. He released my hand and stumbled to the floor.

I stole a look quickly. He was crumpled to the floor, panting, trying to get his breath back. I saw him frown, shake his head, frown again. I could almost smell his surprise, his confusion for I was also puzzled. What happened? He hadn't been himself. He had been bitter with a cold voice. He had shown no fiery emotions. Potter had always shown his emotions on his sleeve.

And he had talked about...

About my father, my loyalty, about changing my mind, about when I fainted, about those images, this pain. About my apparently inevitable death. About these feelings I'd been having recently. He had said something about being the one who caused it, about invading my mind, inserting those thoughts in me.

But Potter, he was strong but not that strong. And he was noble. A funny hex was nothing compared to this. Even Weasley would not have the cruelty to inflict such pain upon me, a Malfoy. There were few who I could think about that could know about this much. There were very few if not only one...

But he couldn't...?

"Bastard, he dared...Now, of all moments..."Potter muttered under his breath.

He pushed his glasses back on his nose and got up on his feet swiftly. He smoothed his robes a bit. His shadow soared over me imposingly. I shivered absently, too absorbed by his emerald eyes. There in the dark, there were all I could see clearly. They shone with a strange gleam but I did not question it. I was entranced by his eyes; green pools that made you drown, that made you spellbound.

"H-Harry...?"

He studied me lightly as I uttered his given name. He wasn't shocked, wasn't pleased. He was just...upset. But upset at something else, it seemed.

"I wish you'd said it under different circumstances but...oh, well. "

At this, he grinned at me.

"I'm glad you're alright. But I wish you forget everything you've heard, seen or felt tonight. Forget it all, please...Goodnight."

"Forget...? "I said to myself, frowning.

"Oh? And Draco?"

"Yes?"

"You were always such a poor actor. Don't go to Broadway, "he smirked at me.

"Broadway...?"

What the hell was a broadway?

--------------------

Late in the next morning, I woke to find a small letter on the night table beside me. Something about it called to me, urged me to open it. A magnet of some sorts, a pull, a charm? I didn't know. The only thing I felt was the great importancy of the letter. Well, of any ways, a letter was meant to be opened and read, was it not?

The message was as follow:

_Forget. Forget about everything last night. None of it happened. None of it mattered. Do not search for answers, you will find none. Follow my advice for I can do much worse than he can. Trust me when I say that there are plenty of things much worse than death itself._

I knew there had been something different in him last night. Even after he had recovered his spirits. And he still talked about someone else, someone powerful, someone cunning, someone merciless. I didn't know it back then but it had slowly consumed him, bit by bit. He became someone else, someone nobody knew or recognize.

So he knew about not being himself lately. He knew about Him, aobut his plans, about everything. And he didn't want anyone to bloody know about it. I could only suppose he was planning himself on going there alone, taking him on all by his own. And he probably was well aware of the weak chances of survival. For all I knew, he was planning to sacrifice himself.

Please, don't ask of me as to why I would be concerned with his welfare...

Alright. He helped me tonight, granted. But it didn't mean anything. Well, I did owe him. After all, Malfoys never kept their debts unpaid. They were noble enough. We did have a reputation to be true to. And even if it bloody sucked, I would eventually have to settle up my dues with Potter. Even if it would cost me a lot. Because, as I suspected, he would claim his debt, consciously or not, when he would need it the most.

The Great War.

And who knew? It might be tomorrow, in a month, a year, in five years. It might be anytime soon or late. But it would happen. Everything's eventual. And odds are, I would be forced to bear that mask, that mark, to owe him that allegiance, to bow when he'll demand it, to kill when I'll be allowed, to speak when I'll be spoken to, to nod when I'll be asked to.

But Potter. He didn't seem afraid. Mainly, mostly annoyed at him. As if they were buddies and He was playing a prank on him. I didn't ever seem to fully understand what was Potter. But why was he so irritated that He chose this particular moment to invade his mind? There was nothing special about this moment. Nothing whatsoever.

He was merely talking to me, holding my hand.

Holding my hand.

------------

It wasn't long before I was back in my dormitories.

Don't say I didn't try to get another day or two at the Hospital Wing. It seemed Madam Pomfrey was adamant on emptying the Infirmary as soon as possible. Great, so I would get another week worth of utter boredom. It was simply amazing. What would I do? There was still nothing to do more. Well...

I could. Hell, I probably would.

My only chance at entertaining myself was to find Potter. I knew it. But you can imagine that with my phenomenal luck, I wasn't quite as fortunate as to finding him. There were so many places he could be yet still so few. Damn Hogwarts for being as big as it was. Damn Potter for being seemingly missing.

Now where could he be? Perhaps on the Quidditch field? Ah, I remember the first time he flew. He was brilliant. Flew like he had been flying forever, he did. And I clearly remember allowing him to be in the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I remember that damn Remember-All, that damn impulse that passed through me. I remember the punishment I received.

Or perhaps in the Library? Potter wasn't quite the bookworm though. He would have to be utterly bored to go there. And even then, Madam Pince would have his neck for the ruckus of last time and the time before and the one before that one...Well, you catch my drift. Maybe she was even considering a lifelong ban to the Library. Now that would be funny.

It reminded me of that time in Fifth Year where I got Umbridge to catch him in that funny room they call Room of Requirements. I was rather proud of it. So was Father and everyone else in the bloody Slytherin House. Hey, don't look at me like that. You know the saying: enemies of my enemies are my allies. Well, they were.

Umbridge was a fucking incompetent. She was absurd. I didn't understand why Dumbledore had let her in. Well, maybe it was the Minister then. Ministries do reflect their Minister. Cornelius Fudge, what a bastard. A fucking sheep in wolf's clothing. A blasted shadow of Dumbledore back then. Now, more of Father's, of whomever are willing to stand by him instead of Potter. A greedy little character who only wanted power. What had we, wizards, done to ourselves ?

We were the bane of our very existence. And yet, he did make it so much easier for the Dark Lord to come back. Pushing aside Dumbledore was perhaps the stupidest thing one could do except possibly falling for...Either way, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return would most likely be awardable to dear old Fudge. Such stupidity led to such power. Shame truly.

But do not get me wrong. I was not preaching the Light side. Merely pointing out the flaws of our world. I was not considering ranging with the Dark side either. I did not believe in such raw siding. No black, no white. Purely greys, deep tones of it, paler ones. In betweens. No such thing as cutting in the middle, equal on both sides, exact measurements. No such prejudices.

But, in my honest opinion, the Dark side was bound to fail. Miserably, if I might add. Do as we say and not as we do. Following the lead of a Halfblood, preaching about blood purity. Talk about ironic, huh? But don't get too far of yourself. I was indeed proud of being a Pureblood. Of belonging to one of the most ancient wizard family. Well...belong is a very broad word as a matter of fact. And I still am today.

Now, as I was saying before, where in the bloody hell did Potter go ?


End file.
